Son of a Snake
by dark dhampir
Summary: Lily survived Voldemort's attack and took Harry to a safe place, raising him with Snape's help.  Now, he's a Slytherine at Hogwarts, ready to take on Dumbledore and his Greater Good.  Inspired by a challenge by Crossoverpairinglover. Harry/Harem/Multi
1. Chapter 1

**Son of a Snake**

**Disclaimer:** I, Dark Dhampir, do hereby give credit where credit is due. J.K. Rowling owns the _Harry Potter_ Franchise (at the least the official, money-making "canon"), and the idea belongs to one of my favorite authors, Crossoverpairinglover. All I can claim this body of work as my own, I can make no money from it and own nothing else. If I did own _Harry Potter_ Franchise, you better believe it would be a lot different. In fact, I am so dissapointed with how the official version of the stories run compared to fan interpretations of the stories, that I am launching a series of origional stories on Deviantart (under my username, Crazygenius1) in response. I also am currently working on another origional series call The Incubus Files, also posted on Deviantart, and soon (hopefully) on .

**Author's Note: **I feel I should warn you all now. J.K. Rowling has asked that fans don't write M rated fictions involving her characters. While her wishes, I have no intension of complying with them. Firstly, I think that the later books were in M rated territory anyway, so this is really nothing new. Secondly, Fanficiton is the property of the the fans not the author. If you deny people the right to express their ideas, you kill hteir creativity and you limit the scope of your own work.

I'm sorry, m'am, if you are reading this, but I feel that you are in the wrong in this debate.

Now, on with _Son of a Snake_

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><p><strong>London, England-the United kingdom: 3 a.m. November 1, 1981<strong>

Severus Snape sat alone his living-room. He lived alone in a bare, dusty house in the middle of London. Usually, he hated it, but at the moment, couldn't care less about the place. He couldn't care less about anything. The girl of his dreams, his first and only true love, was dead. And it was his fault.

Her husband was dead too, which Severus felt little guilt for, as was their son.

_Her_ son. Severus had only ever thought of the boy as Potter's spawn. Until, earlier that night, when Dumbledore had reminded him that the boy was Lily's flesh too and, under different circumstances, might have been his own child. But, now, the boy was dead, and so was his mother, and it was all Severus' fault.

_Pop!_

The mourning man looked up and saw a House-Elf standing in the middle of his dusty, dirty living-room. It seemed to disapprove of the place.

"Mister Severus Snape, sir?" it asked in the typical high-pitched voice of its kind (Severus was horrible at telling House-Elf genders apart).

"What do you want?" he asked, annoyed at this intrusion.

"Mistress Lily wants to speak you, sir," it answered.

Just like that, Snape's whole world was turned upside down. "Lily is _dead."_

The Elf shook its heard. "No, sir. She's alive, and she wants to talk to you."

Snape gulped. Was it true? Had his final, desperate gambit worked? But if so, why would she want to talk to him? It was probably a trap. Then again, what did he have to lose?

"Very well," he said at last.

The Elf offered its hand, and Snape took it. Then, the pair disappeared into thin air.

_Potter Manor_

The place Snape found himself in was unlike any place he had ever been to before. It was . . ._ warm, _not just in a physical sense, but in an emotional way too. It was a white and beige, with a soft carpet, a pair of comfortable-looking chairs, and something Snape hadn't seen in years-a television.

"Hello, Severus," a voice that made his heart pound said from behind him. There, sitting in a chair, holding a baby in her arms was a beautiful woman with deep red hair and piercing green eyes. It was Lily, the girl he had loved and lost . . . and then betrayed.

"Lily . . ." Snape tried to form words-questions, apologies-but he couldn't. It was all too much.

Lily gave him a small smile. "I have a bit of a problem, Severus. You see, I don't know whether I should thank you for saving my life or curse you very badly between the legs."

"Why. . . Why would you thank me?" Snape asked. "I got your husband killed?"

"But you saved my life . . . and Harry's, though I think that was an accident," Lily said, looking pointedly at him. "I recognized that spell you put on Voldemort's wand. Brilliant, by the way."

"_That _was enough to destroy the Dark Lord?" Snape found that a little hard to believe, despite the fact that his supposedly dead former friend was alive."

"Oh, no!" Lily laughed, a musical sound that made Snape's heart ache. "No, Severus, that spell only kept him from killing me. It was James that did it."

"_He _defeated the greatest Dark Wizard of all time?" Snape didn't know if he should be impressed or jealous. _Impressed, _he thought, _I don't have the right to be jealous of him anymore. _

Lily shook her head sadly. "No, he died trying to buy enough time for me to escape with Harry." She looked down affectionately at the baby in her arms. "Something as good as that, pure love, leaves a mark on those it was given to, namely Harry and me. Magic that is so essential evil as _Avada Kedavra, _doesn't mix well with that." Lily gave him a wicked smile, the one that had terrified so many back in school. "The greatest Dark Wizard in history destroyed himself."

Severus sighed. _How did I ever allow myself to get mixed up with such a vile fool?_

"Afterwards," Lily said, breaking him out of his self-pity induced trance, "Dumbledore showed up, conveniently late. He was rather surprised I was still alive, and tried to convince me to let him take Harry to live with my sister's family."

"_WHAT?" _Snape cried. _"That HORSE? How could he think that?"_

"That was my reaction. He said that Harry needed to grow up away from the Wizarding World or the fame would spoil him. I told him I could ensure that on my own, but he insisted I had to surrender all guardianship rights to the Dursleys."

"What . . ." Severus struggled to find the necessary words. "What was he thinking?" he said at last.

"He said it was for the Greater Good," Lily answered, "whatever _that_ was. I didn't stay to find out. I Apparated here, where he can never find us."

"Where is 'here,' anyway?" Snape asked for the first time, looking around.

"Potter Manor- Godrick Hollow was just a little summer-home. This place was being renovated, still is actually, so we stayed there for a time. But that's not important."

Lily fixed Severus with a strong, steady gaze. It was not menacing, but the greasy-haired man was still intimidated; it felt like he was being examined.

"The important thing is this, Severus: can I trust you, and will you help me. Will you help me raise my son as well as James' unborn second child whom I now carry? Will you stand beside me against Dumbledore, against the remains of Voldemort's forces, and against Pureblood society in general? Will you, Severus, will you?"


	2. Chapter 2

Sorry it's been so long. But hopefully a longer chapter makes up for it. Disclaimer: I still own nothing, sadly.

P.S. I've already mostly decided who's going to be in Harry's harem, so if enough people ask, I'll post a list at the start of the next chapter. Post requests in the reviews, please. Thank you.

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><p><strong>Chapter 1: The Journey from Platform 9 ¾<strong>

_Potter Manor, 1991:_

Harry dozed comfortably, ignoring the early morning sunshine on his cheek. He was just close enough to consciousness to realize he should be getting up, and just comfortable enough to not care.

_THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!_

"For the last time you two, _GET UP OR YOU'LL MISS BREAKFAST!" _Harry's mother yelled, banging on the door for emphasis.

Beside him, his bedmate groaned in protest and snuggled further into her pillow.

Shaking her a little, young Harry insisted "C'mon, Daph. It's time to get up."

Groaning, the little girl laying next him rolled over, revealing a beautiful young face with blue eyes framed by golden hair.

Harry smiled at the sight and, before he realized what he was doing, bent down and kissed her on the forehead. Daphne blushed but smiled and consented to get up.

The two eleven-year-olds dressed on opposite sides of the bed. Despite frequent sleepovers and the fact that they were betrothed, the pair had never seen each other naked. _But that might soon change, _Harry thought. Young witches tended to awaken sexually around the age of twelve.

Harry wasn't completely sure he was ready to deal with that yet, if his mother's stories were to be believed.

As he finished getting dressed, however, Harry realized something important: he had kissed Daphne this morning.

He had never done that before.

When Harry and Daphne appeared downstairs, it was to the usual chaos. Harry's owl, Hegwig was fighting with Buster, Professor Snape's rescued messenger (he didn't name it), while Albert, Daphne's owl, backed up Hegwig. Harry's sister Daisy was pestering their mother, asking why _she _couldn't go to Hogwarts and if she could do everything ("Why do I have to wait a whole year? Mum, can I flip the pancakes? I'm old enough to go! It's so _boring _around here! Can I scramble the eggs, Mum; can I, _pleeeeeeease?). _Through it all, the adults tried to ignore everything.

Harry and Daphne sat down at the table just as his mother brought their plates over to them, Daisy still following along.

"Daisy Potter," Lily finally said, turning to her youngest child. "You cannot go to Hogwarts for another year and there is nothing I can do about that. Now sit down and stop asking me to change the rules or no chocolate milk!"

The dark-haired girl was instantly silent and ran to her seat opposite Harry.

After that, breakfast was fairly stable; mostly Lily asking her son and his fiancé if they were packed for the trip.

"Your books?"

"Packed."

"Your robes?"

"Packed."

"Your breakfast?"

"Pa-" Harry stopped himself and gave his mother an accusing look. "Cheater."

"Your mother," she countered without a trace of shame. "Now eat up, we to get moving soon if we want to avoid the rush; there's no way the platform has gotten any less chaotic than it was in our day, right Severus?"

The Potions professor, who was sitting next to Daisy drinking coffee, made a face. "It has definitely become worse over the years. One of Dumbledore's favorite ways of punishing teachers is to assign them to manage the platform. I'd rather take Bedlam; it's much saner."

_The Hogwarts Express, Platform 9 ¾_

Harry and Daphne sat alone in a compartment. They had arrived early and had had their choice of seats. The rest of the train was filling up, though; it was only twenty minutes until the departure, so there was a scramble outside the train as the late-comers tried to get in. Currently, the young couple was watching the chaos going on just outside their window.

"Excuse me," a voice said behind them.

The two turned. The speaker was a bushy-haired girl with a small overbite and a cute nose and intelligent eyes. She was standing outside the compartment, holding her bags; she was already wearing her school robes. "Do you mind if I sit here?"

Harry shook his head. "No, come in," he said, waving her in, moving to sit next to Daphne. The girl came in, put her things away, and sat down across from Harry.

Harry's fiancé held out her hand. "Hello, I'm Daphne Greengrass."

"Hermione Granger, pleased to meet you." The two girls shook hands. "And you are?" Hermione asked, turning to Harry.

"Harry Potter," the boy answered, offering his own hand.

"Holy Cricket!" Hermione cried. "You're Harry Potter? I've read all about you in _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century _and-"

"You haven't read anything," Harry said, drawing his hand back and slumping in his seat.

Daphne put her hand around Harry's. "Harry doesn't like what all the books say about him; they don't know what they're talking about."

"But . . . how could they . . ." Hermione struggled to form her questions.

"How could they know anything about what happened the night Voldemort-" Hermione looked confused, "-You-Know-Who-was destroyed?" Daphne countered.

Hermione didn't have an answer for that.

". . . It was my dad," Harry said. They turned to him. "He died protecting me and my mom, that's what saved us; nothing we did."

"I'm sorry," Hermione whispered. She tried to imagine losing her father and shuddered, pushing the thought away. "Do you . . . want me to leave?"

"No," Harry said quickly. "It's all right."

Hermione smiled, shyly. "Thank you."

The train started moving, and the three sat in silence.

A few minutes later, after they had left the city behind, the door opened again, and a red-haired boy stuck his head in. "Mind if I sit here; everywhere else is full."

"All right," Harry said, looking at the girls who nodded conformation. "Come in."

The boy dragged his bag in; there was a large rat in a cage on top. "I'm Ron, Ron Weasley," he said, as he plopped himself down beside Hermione. The witch moved a little away from him.

"Hermione Granger," she said, looking at her new . . . friends-where they her friends?-and saw them giving Ron funny looks.

"Hey, you're Harry Potter aren't you?" the new boy cried with a grin.

"Yes . . . I am," Harry replied, his mouth twisting into something that wasn't quite a frown. "Nice to meet you."

Ron was beaming now. "Wow, I was hoping to meet you! My parents were in Gryffindor, and they knew your parents. Everyone in my family's been a Gryffindor; I hope we can be friends-"

"That's unlikely," Daphne whispered.

Ron turned to face her. "Who are you?" he asked, as though he had just now noticed her.

Daphne tried to smile as she introduced herself then stopped when the red-head exploded. "Greengrass! They're all a pack of slimy Slytherins!"

Daphne hissed, and Harry held onto her hand. "I think you should leave, Weasley." Harry said, tensely.

"Why me? Why would you want to hang out with one of those snakes?" Having been poisoned against Slytherins all his life, Ron couldn't understand why the son of two Gryffindors wanted to hang out with one. "They're all bad; 'there's not a witch or wizard that went bad that wasn't in Slytherin," he quoted.

"My mother was a Slytherin," Harry said, now openly glaring at Ron.

"What?" Ron stumbled. "But your mum-"

"Is both a Slytherin and one of the best witches in the world," Harry said, "and I hope to be too."

Ron looked like he had just swallowed his own vomit; maybe he did. "If you want to be a snake, then there's no way we can ever be friends!" He picked up his trunk and stormed out of the compartment, slamming the door behind him.

"Good riddance," Daphne said.

After a moment, Hermione asked "So . . . your mother was in Slytherin?"

Harry nodded. "A lot of them _are _nasty, so the whole house has a bad reputation, but a lot of really good people have been in Slytherin, like my mum."

"Or Merlin," Daphne added Hermione's eyes lit up.

"You mean King Arthur's Merlin?" She asked.

Daphne smiled. "The one and only." The trio spent the next hour or so discussing famous Wizards they had read about, particularly, good Slytherins.

All good things must come to an end, however, and soon the compartment door was reopened-and it wasn't the snack trolley.

A thin, pale boy with white hair stood between a pair of boys who looked vaguely like shrunken trolls. The blond strode in as though he owned the train, a smirk on his face. The trolls tried to imitate him and got stuck in the door when they tried to walk in at the same time.

The pale one either didn't notice or didn't care. "So it's true then," he declared, looking at Harry, "what they're saying on the train; Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts."

Harry glowered at the boy. "It's true, and I suppose you're Lucius Malfoy's son."

The pale newcomer got even more smug. "That's right; I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy, and these are Crabbe and Goyle" he indicated to the pair behind him.

"They look just like their fathers," Daphne said, examining the new trio as one examines a trio of cockroaches.

Malfoy turned to her, frowning. "And you're a Greengrass, I suppose." He didn't wait for her to reply. Turning back to Harry, he said "You'll soon find that some Wizarding families are _better _than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the _wrong _sort." He held out his hand. "I can help you there."

Harry's glowered intensified. Malfoy finally noticed it and took an involuntary step back. "I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks. Now," the young Potter said, standing and looking Malfoy directly in the eye, "if you're done insulting my fiancé, I'd appreciate it if you left."

Malfoy withdrew his hand and sneered. "You'll regret this Potter, mark my words." He turned and strode out of the compartment, shoving Crabbe and Goyle out of the door as he did so.

Daphne slid the door shut again. "I'll say it again, good riddance."

"Agreed," Harry said, as she settled against him again.

Hermione, however, was not happy. "Fiancé? What do you mean fiancé? You're only eleven!"

Harry shrugged. "It was from a contract that was arranged by our great-grandparents, one that could only be fulfilled by the two of us."

"That's . . . that's . . . totally BARBARIC!" Hermione yelled.

It was Daphne's turn to shrug. "I suppose so, but there's no way out of it." She snuggled in closer to Harry. "Besides, I don't mind."

"You don't mind?" Hermione looked like she was about to explode. "You're parents decided who you were going to marry, and YOU _DON'T _MIND?!"

Harry smiled. "Our parents figured this would work better if we started out as friends. So, Daphne and I have spent most of our lives together. She's not just my fiancé; Daphne's my best friend. At this point, I couldn't imagine _not _marrying her. It would break my heart."

Hermione looked mollified somewhat. "But you'll never do it to your children, right?"

Harry shook his head. "Not if we can help it; this has worked out great for us, but we know it can be horrible. We won't let it happen to our children."

The train continued on, and the hours past. Eventually, they arrived at the school, and it was time to disembark.

Hermione left first. "I'll catch up with you later?" It sounded more like a question than a promise.

Harry smiled. "Sure, just wait outside the door, and we'll catch up."

He bent down to help Daphne with the trunk that wasn't really stuck under her seat. "Okay, she's gone; what did you want to talk about?"

Daphne pulled out her trunk and smiled. "I like her," she said.

Harry nodded. "I like her, too."

"Smart, pretty, a thirst for knowledge, and a strong sense of right and wrong." Daphne listed off Hermione's virtue with a dreamy look on her face. "Passonate . . . I think she would make an excellent hetaera," the young witch said, walking through the door.

Harry swallowed. "A hetaera? Daphne, wait, you can't be serious . . . Daph! _Daph!"_ He raced after her.

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><p>And done! What was all that about at the end? Sorry that will be revealed in later chapters, but it will be hinted at. Look up hetaerae on wikipedia if you're dying for info. If not, wait, and I'll try to make it worth your while.<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

Hey, there. If your'e still looking at his, thank you. I'm going to try to be faster, but no promises.

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><p><strong>Chapter 3: The Sorting Hat<strong>

Hermione met the couple outside the train doors, just in time to hear "Firs' Years! Firs' Years, follow me!"

Hermione didn't scream, but her eyes did go wide. Also, her hand reached down and grabbed Harry's for just an instant. The two looked at each other, then immediately let go. Harry looked to his right and saw Daphne had noticed their abrupt movement. The young witch looked down at their hands, which were flexing open and shut, and smiled.

Harry gulped. "That must be Hagrid, the groundskeeper; my mum told us about him." The description she had given matched exactly. The man calling was enormous, with wild black hair, friendly eyes, and wearing a moleskin coat. He was holding a lantern and standing on the edge of the lake where a number of boats had been docked.

Daphne grabbed her bag. "Let's go, then," she said, taking a few steps forward. Then she stopped and turned to Hermione "He doesn't bite, you know." Hermione blushed and followed after them.

Harry swerved next to his fiancé. "That was mean."

"Just trying to make sure she knows I'll always be in charge," Daphne replied, grinning.

Harry blushed (he knew what she planned to be in charge of), but didn't say anything else. When they finally got to the boats, they were near the end of the line.

"Four to a boat!" Hagrid called. "Make room, now! Four to a boat! Weasley, watch that rat of your's!"

The new trio got into one near the end with a small, dark haired boy who had a toad instead of an owl. "Neville Longbottom" was the name he gave when the group introduced themselves.

"That would make you the grandson of Lady Augusta Longbottom," Daphne said.

Neville nodded. "Yeah, I live with her."

Harry nodded; his mother had told him that the Longbottoms were stuck in the hospital all the time. She wouldn't explain why just yet, which probably meant dark magic was involved somewhere.

"I take it your grandmother's very important?" Hermione tentatively asked.

Neville nodded silently.

"Lady Longbottom's a tough customer," Daphne said. "She's one of the most important figures in Ministry. It's said she could stare down a dragon and make it roll over."

Hermione's eyes went wide. "Really?"

"Really," Neville said, shivering a little.

Harry realized they needed to change topics. "So, Neville, what House do you want to be in?"

"Well . . . my parents were in Gryffindor, but I don't think I'll make-"

"Why not?" Harry asked. "Because you're not brave enough?"

Neville nodded glumly.

"I don't believe that. Believe in yourself, Neville, or you'll never achieve your dreams." The others stared at him. Harry blushed and looked down. "That's something my mum told me once."

Neville smiled a little. "Thanks Harry."

"Well done," Daphne said, taking his hand. She beamed at him, and her grin widened just a little when she saw Hermione looking at Harry. She looked . . . proud, happy, something else? It was positive at any rate; that was a good start.

"Where do you want to go, Hermione?" she asked.

Hermione bit her lip. "Well, I wanted to get in Gryffindor-Dumbledore was in Gryffindor, you know-but I'm not so sure now."

"Don't want to share a House with Weasley?" Daphne asked.

Hermione nodded.

"I can't say I'm keen on sharing a House with Malfoy," Harry admitted. "But Mum warned me that there was a bad lot in every House. Don't let someone stop you from chasing your dream, Hermione. If you want to be in Gryffindor, go for it!"

Hermione blushed but didn't hide her face this time. "You're right, Harry. I'll do my best to be in Gryffindor, even if it means putting up with Wealsey; I'll do it."

It was an epic moment, the sort which precedes the birth of a legend. Unfortunately, like many such moments, it was ruined by someone from the peanut gallery. Trevor had, for reasons known only to extremely independent toads, wandered out of Neville's lap to investigate a piece of Daphne's luggage, which turned out to be her owl cage. Albert, of course, was not amused at the toad's advances and attempted to attack it, shilling loudly. This, of course, sent Hedwig into a frenzy, and the four friends spent the rest of the trip trying not calm them down . . . and avoid tipping the boat over.

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><p>Harry had to feel sorry for the first generation witches and wizards; listening to the older students, you'd think sorting was accomplished by how well they could wrestle trolls without magic. The truth was far less glamorous. You put a magical hat on your head and it decides where you're going to spend the next seven years of your life. Part of him thought the Founders were control freaks.<p>

When the Sorting Hat was presented, the Potter heir groaned its song.

"What is it, Harry," Hermione asked.

"The Hat's just as messed up as everyone else about the houses. 'Gryffindor's are the best and the bravest; Ravenclaw's are the smart ones; Hufflepuff's for losers; don't trust those Slytherins.'" The young wizard sighed.

Daphne shook her head. "We haven't even started the year and people are already trying to turn us into enemies."

"Bones, Susan!" Professor McGonagall called. An auburn haired witch walked up and sat on the stool. The instant the hat was placed on her head-

"Hufflepuff!" The badgers began cheering for their newest member.

"She's pretty," Daphne noted.

Harry turned to her and grimaced at the thoughtful look on her face. He always did so ever since that incident when they were six years old . . .

**POTTER MANOR; 1986:**

_Harry was beginning to wonder if this was a good idea. He looked down at the shoebox he held in his hands. It didn't look like much._

_He was out in the yard with Daphne, her back yard, that is. Her father was at work, and her mother was going over some papers, muttering things that sounded like bad words to herself. He and Daphne were all alone._

_The two of them were standing in front of her mother's flower bushes. "All right, Harry," she said, "Mom says it likes to hide behind these thick bushes. You just convince him to come out and get in the box."_

_Harry frowned. "Are you sure about this, Daphne?" Maybe telling her he could talk to snakes had been a bad idea; the girl had been acting weird for the past two days._

"_Of course I'm sure!" she declared, folding her arms. "My mum's been complaining about it for weeks! If we can get rid of it, she can go back to enjoying her garden, and the elves won't have to kill it. Two birds saved with one stone."_

_Harry signed and crawled down to the lowest level of the flower bush. _"Hello," _he hissed. _

_For a moment, there was silence. Then, _"What do you want?" _someone hissed back. _

"Um, I was wondering, eh, if you would get in this box for us?"_ Harry asked sliding the box up to the bushes._

_Again, there was a moment of silence. This time, the snake asked _"Why should I do that?"

"Well . . . you've been bothering Daphne's mum a lot and she might want the House-Elves to kill you," _Harry offered weakly. it sounded better in his head. _

_The snake said nothing, but Harry heard it slither out from its hiding place ot where he was kneeling._

_"It's coming Daphne," he called, smiling. "I think it's-_OOOOOOOOOUCH!" _he cried as the snake bit him._

Returning to the present, Harry cringed rubbing the scar on his right hand. That little adventure had ended with the two of them being forbidden to see each other for a whole week and months of supervision before they were allowed to be alone again. He also got a warning from to be careful what he and Daphne got involved with in the future. A lesson he may not have learned very well.

"What are you doing, Daph?" he whispered.

Daphne turned to him, smiling even wider. "Miss Bones is the last heir of her house, you know?"

Harry groaned. His fiancé was trying to set him up with other girls, and the year was just beginning.

Hermione looked at them both, clearly wondering what they were talking about. _If she only knew, _Harry thought.

* * *

><p>"Potter, Harry!" Professor McGonagall called.<p>

Harry walked up to the stool, doing his best to ignore the people whispering around him. As soon as the professor placed the Hat on his head, head he heard it whispering to him. _"Curious, curious. Plenty of courage,m not a bad mind either . . . and a thirst to prove yourself . . . But where to put you?_

"Slytherin," Harry whispered to it.

"_Slytherin, eh. Yes, you could do well there, but are you certain-you could be great in Gryffindor."_

Harry thought of his father, of Hermione who was sitting at the table under lion banner. Then he thought of his mother, of Daphne, and of himself. "I'd rather be a Slytherin, please."

"_If you're sure," _the hat responded. _"SLYTHERIN!" _it called out.

This did not exactly go over well. The Gryffindors loudly shouted out complaints and the Slytherin's-well, they didn't say anything, but none of them looked happy to see him, except Daphne, who moved over to let him sit next to her. Oddly enough, this meant he was also sitting next to a pretty girl named Tracy Davis.

"What are you doing here, Potter?" Malfoy seethed.

"Sitting, Malfoy, this is my House now, same as your's."

"You don't belong here!" the ponce growled. "You're a halfblood!"

Harry copied the other boy's sneer. "I'm a halfblood form an Ancient and Noble House. That's still better than you, Malfoy."

The blond fumed, but said nothing. Harry leaned back a little in his seat; this was going to be a long year.

Under the table, he felt Daphne take his hand in her's and squeeze gently.

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><p>Okay, I know some of you were miffed I skipped ten years, but I wanted to get to the meat of the story ASAP. I am, however, planning to do more flashbacks, so keep your eyes peeled for them in the future.<p>

Sorry if I seemed a little confusing with Daphne. She really does love Harry and wants to help him. The problem is, her "help" may do more harm than good. A major conflict here is her desire to help Harry get powerful alliances, while Harry wants to live a normal life with a close circle of real friends.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Sorry this is taking so long. I can only offer that this was sooner than the last update. **

**I would also like to point out that yes, Akuma-Heika, you're historically correct. According to historic records, the real King Arthur (or at least, the guy who closest resembles him) lived in the late 5th and early 6th Centuries. Since Hogwarts was not founded until near the end of the 10th Century, it would technically have been impossible for him to attend the school. However, J.K. Rowling officially stated that Merlin was a Slytherin in the early years of the school. Either she never heard of the archeological findings, or she stretched the truth for the sake of good story-telling.**

**Considering that Arthur has long been considered a purely fictional figure, I'd go with the 1st one. So, in the Harryverse, Arthur ruled in the later part of the Middle Ages, rather than the early part. Oh well, that's what fantasy's for.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 4: Halloween Night<strong>

**Hogwarts Hall: Halloween Evening**

For the first month or so, Hogwarts had been equal parts fun and torture. It had been fun because Harry had spent the weeks with Daphne and Hermione learning about spells and dangerous creatures and potions. It had been torture because of his housemates. He recalled how he and Daphne had tried to convince Hermione that not all Slytherines were bad, that it was mostly just vicious rumors from the other Houses.

After a month of "Move it, half-blood!" and "Out of the way, blood traitor," they were beginning to reevaluate their initial argument.

Not that the Gryffindors were faultless, either. Having to put up with shared classes with the Lions was not his idea of a good time. Well, it wasn't Gryffindors in general; they mostly just ignored Daphne and him. The trouble really came from a certain red-haired numbskull. Ron, as it turned out, was horrible at making friends even with other Gryffindors.

Just the other day, he got paired with Hermione for potions and spent most of their time together trying to convince her to do all the work. It had culminated in the prat shoving too many elder pine roots into their potion, which caused something not unlike what happens when one adds vinegar to baking soda. . .

Long story short, Professor Snape had to end the class early. The pale man had given the Weasley boy a thorough chewing-out, and docked twenty points from Gryffindor. Harry and Daphne might have laughed if Hermione hadn't looked like she was about to have a heart attack.

_Come to think of it, _Harry thought. _Why haven't I seen her all day? _

"Harry," Daphne said, causing him to turn to her. "Can you see Hermione at the Gryffindor table? I can't."

Harry craned his neck, trying to see over to the Lions' table. Since there were two Houses between them, it was difficult, but not impossible. Harry was able to pick out Hermione's roommates—Lavender Brown and Parvarti, one of the pretty Patil twins. Hermione usually sat beside them, but not tonight.

Harry scanned the whole table, which was almost useless; she was probably sitting behind one of the kids in Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw, but why was Parvarti looking so uncomfortable?

"I can't see her," he admitted. He was about to remark on how he hadn't seen her all day, when he was interrupted by a whinny voice.

"That's 'cause she's not here, Potter."

Harry turned to look at Pansy Parkinson, also called "Puggsy" because of her looks. She was grinning, looped around Malfoy's arm, while the Junior Death Eaters—Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle Senior all claimed to have been enchanted into Voldemort's service, but that was a lie—all snickered.

"Pansy saw her in the girls' bathroom before dinner, bawling her eyes out," Malfoy said, which caused the whole group to erupt into laughter.

Harry and Daphne squeezed each other's hands so hard their knuckles turned white. Harry silently wished he was sitting on Daphne's right, so his wand-hand would be free.

Malfoy saw his reaction and only grinned wider. He opened his mouth to say something else-

_BOOM! _ The doors slammed open, and Quirrel came running in. "TROLL!" he cried. "IN THE DUNGEONS! TROLL IN THE DUNGEONS!" He came to a stop right in front of the staff table and,almost out of breath, added "Thought you ought to know." Then he fainted.

"_IEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHHHHHHH!"_

For a brief instant, chaos reigned. Students threw down their food and screamed; they all clamored toward the doors, pushing and shoving—Harry saw Neville get shoved against the wall, but, before they could rush out into the corridors-

"_SILENCE!" _Dumbledore ordered from the staff table. As though the word itself was a spell, the effect was immediate. All the students froze and turned toward him in silence. He was standing now, perfectly strait, his face set as he spoke clearly and firmly. "Everyone will _please _not panic." He waited a moment before continuing. "Prefects will lead their housemates back to their rooms. Teachers will follow me to the Dungeons."

Then, the old man turned to the side and began leading the teachers away.

"Damn," Harry whispered.

"Indeed," Daphne replied. Even they had to admit that Dumbledore's actions were impressive. Then, Daphne jerked her head. "Where's Severus going?"

The greasy-haired potion master had not followed the other teachers; he had instead ducked into another doorway after the crowds resumed moving.

Harry stared at the door. _I wonder where _that _leads._

"Move it, you lot!" thundered Roger Davies, a Slytherin prefect. "Get a move on!"

The young couple quickly abandoned their ponderings and hurried after their house-mates. They had made it out into the hall that lead to the Slytherin commonroom when Harry pulled Daphne aside.

"Harry, what-"

_"Hermione,"_ he whispered. His face was white, and his eyes were wide. He was breathing heavily, looking as though he might run down the corridors at any second.

Daphne hesitated for only and instant; then, her face lost color. "She's in the bathroom . . . She doesn't know . . ."

A crash resounded from somewhere down the hall, and the two ran towards it without hesitation. Harry got slightly ahead of Daphne, and then, without glancing back, offered his hand. Almost without thinking, Daphne grasped it.

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><p>Hermione sat all alone in the stall. She didn't know how long she had spent inside, but she was very hungry and thirsty. She bit her lip. <em>Ronald will make fun of me when I get back. "Stupid bookworm cried all day long." <em>Not for the first time, she wanted to simply stay in the stall and continue crying for the rest of her life, but that wouldn't work anymore. She had finally run out of tears, and it seemed pointless to try to continue.

The door opened and someone shuffled inside. _Probably Bulstrode. _Hermione cringed. By now, the whole school probably knew what she had been doing, and a bunch of them were probably waiting outside to laugh at her. She swallowed.

_Harry and Daphne will know, too. They'll know I'm pathetic and useless and . . . _ She found a few more tears.

She heard Bulstrode or whoever it was around outside. _Might as well get it over with._ Hermione wiped her eyes and opened the door.

It wasn't Bulstrode outside. In fact, Hermione didn't know what it was. Honestly, it looked like a pair of thorny, grey tree trunks. Following the "trunks' up, she saw an enormous, hairless man with long, ape-like arms in ragged clothes. For a moment, the two just stared at each other.

_"ROOOOAAAAARRRRRR!"_

_ "EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHHHHH!"_

The troll raised its club, which seemed like it was once a small tree. Hermione's brained kicked just soon enough that she ducked when the monster swung at her. The club missed her-

_SMASH!_

-instead, taking out most of the stalls. As the beast readied itself for another swing, Hermione scrambled into the farthest corner, hiding under the sink. This didn't deter the troll; its club _crunch_-ed through the sink, narrowly missing her. _It's going to kill me. It's going to kill me. _Hermione tried to remember what she had read about trolls, searching for a way to save herself. All she got was _It's going to kill me. It's going to kill me! IT'S GOING TO KILL ME!_

"HERMIONE!"

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><p>Harry and Daphne reached the girls' bathroom just as the troll was lumbering in. Harry swallowed. He knew that trolls were big, but he didn't think they were <em>this <em>big. It was taller than Hagrid!

"Do you think Hermione got out already?" Daphne whispered, squeezing his hand.

Harry opened his mouth, but before he could speak-

"_ROOOOAAAAARRRRRR!"_

_ "EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHHHHH!"_

His mouth snapped shut, and the pair rushed into the restroom, ignoring the sound of splintering wood and crushed porcelain.

"HERMIONE!" they shouted. She was alive, thankfully, but trapped under the sink with the troll looming over her.

_ "Stupefy!"_

_ "Stupefy!"_

They cast the spell together, hitting the beast in its enormous back. Of course, two stunners fired by children don't do much to a troll. This succeeded in causing the monster to forget about Hermione. Unfortunately, now it was focused on them.

The pair continued firing hexes at it, but trolls are magically resistant. Even a pair of full-grown spellcasters would have struggled against it. The children's continued attacks only aggravated it, and it was not in pleasant mood to begin with.

"Get Hermione, out of here," Harry whispered, as the troll approached them.

"What?" Daphne asked. The troll growled and raised its club.

"Get Hermione out of here!" Harry yelled, shoving his betrothed to the side and then diving in the opposite direction jut as the club came smashing down where they used to be.

Harry rolled under the sinks. He tried to get up, but hit his head on the pipes. "Ahh!" He fell down again, dazed from the pain. The troll saw and easy victim and raised its club.

"Harry!" Daphne cried, shifting through the wreckage of the broken stalls for her wand; she had dropped when Harry pushed her. _Where is it? Where is it? _raced through her head as she searched for the wand.

_ "Stupify!"_

Daphne's head shot up. The troll wasn't facing Harry anymore. It was looking at Hermione, who was throwing stunners at it as quickly as she could.

"Urgh," the Troll grunted. It just could not catch a break tonight. Every time it had an easy meal ready to be gutted, some new pest started bothering it. A smarter creature might have ignored the nuisances, but Trolls are a race cursed with both great aggression and great stupidity. On one hand, this made them apex predators while also making it hard to intimidate, bluff, or negotiate with them. On the other hand, this combination of traits meant they could never leave well enough alone.

So, the Troll turned from the prone Harry and began to advance on Hermione-again. The young witch kept shooting stunners at it, which only made it more determined to grind her bones to-

"Urgh . . . _Raaaaaaargh!"_

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><p>As soon as Harry got up, he realized there was nothing he could do. His and Daphne's stunners were a joke against the monster, and Daphne couldn't find her wand. <em>What are we supposed to do? <em>Then he saw the beast raise its club to kill Hermione, and he stopped thinking. Harry ran at the Troll and jumped onto its back. He actually managed to get an arm around the thing's massive neck. Before the Troll could react, Harry rammed his wand as high as it would go up the creature's right nostril. The Troll was not particularly amused and began flailing about like a fish dropped on the deck of a boat.

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><p><em>Okay, that worked, <em>Daphne thought. This was swiftly followed, however, by _how long until the big cretin starts hitting his own back with the club? _If he was lucky, Harry might let go before that happened. If he wasn't . . .

_Got to keep it occupied, _she thought, still searching for her wand. _Where are the teachers? _Shouldn't they have realized the Troll wasn't in the Dungeons anymore?

"Urgh," the Troll grunted.

Daphne looked up again and saw that the Troll had stopped flailing. _Oh, no! _she thought. The Troll was raising its club . . .

"_Wingardium Leviosa!"_

Instantly, the Troll's club was snatched out its hand and hovered several feet out of reach. The dumb beast didn't even realize it was missing its weapon until it tried to hit Harry and didn't feel a thump against its own back. It stared dully at its empty hand for a full minute.

Daphne was staring at the spectacle herself when she heard a feminine voice call out "Harry, get down!"

Like the characters in the cartoons she had watched at Harry's house, Daphne felt a little light bulb go off in her head. She swung her head to Hermione and saw the beautiful Gryffindor's wand pointed at the beast's club. _She's brilliant, _Daphne thought. _I never would've thought of something like that. Harry's _got_ to bind her to us. There's no way we can let her go after this._

* * *

><p>Harry, meanwhile, had other concerns. Dropping down from the Troll, he saw that the Beast was now looking above its head at the club floating in the air . . . directly above its face.<p>

"Hermione!" he called. "Drop it! _Drop it, now!" _

Harry didn't know if the girl understood his reasoning or not, but she did as she was told. The club's heavy end tilted forward and smashed the Troll square in the face.

"Oooh! Oooooohhhh . . ." the Troll groaned, before toppling over with a resounding _crash!_

Hermione came out from under the ruined sinks, now soaking wet from the spraying pipes. The three gathered around the sleeping brute. "Is it dead?" the Gryffindor asked.

"Don't think so," Harry responded. "Just knocked out." He reached down and picked up his wand, the tip now covered in blood and-

"Eww," Daphne grimaced.

"Yuck," Hermione agreed.

Harry grimaced. _Troll snot, great._

Thundering footsteps erupted from the outside passageway. "That would be the cavalry," Daphne deadpanned. She turned to examine Hermione. The witch was drenched, red-eyed, shaken, and was walking over to Harry. But after a showing like that, Daphne couldn't think the other girl could look more beautiful, as she watched her betrothed embrace her, Daphne thought once more of "the cavalry," _Perfect timing._

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><p><strong>Well, the plot's thickening, next time: Hermione finally finds out what Daphne has in store for her. Insert maniacal laughter.<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: Okay, I'm sorry it took so long. Between my own laziness and school work, I've been having trouble finding and motivation to write lately. Hopefully, this chapter is long enough to make up for the wait (It's five pages on my computer; I don't know how much that is to you, but it was a lot to me).**

**Kaden-san: Thank you for pointing out my flaws. I still haven't gotten a beta, but I did slow down a little and proof-read this chapter. Caught a lot of bad mistakes (_cringe_).**

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><p><strong>Chapter 5: Bonds<strong>

Professor McGonagall was not amused at the sight of three first-years (and one of them a boy) standing over the sleeping body of a full-grown mountain troll in the ruins of a girls' lavatory. Hearing that the three aforementioned first-years were the reason said troll was sleeping was not amusing either . . . although Daphne secretly thought the look on the elderly witch's face when she heard so was.

"What—How . . . Explain yourselves!" She demanded.

"We-e-e-ell . . ." Harry started, before Daphne interrupted him.

"Harry and I heard that Hermione was in the girls' loo, and we were worried that she wouldn't have known about the Troll. So, we ran over to check on her, but the Troll had already arrived and was attacking her. Harry and I tried to distract it, but it was Hermione's quick thinking that brought the Troll down: she levitated its club above its head and then dropped it," Daphne finished. A perfect, succinct summary of events, Harry would really have to leave politics to her if this was how he dealt with a crisis.

Little did she know that Harry was thinking along the same lines. _Note to self: always let Daphne do the talking. _Little did _Harry _know how much he was going to both love and regret that decision for the rest of his life.

Hermione, however, had more immediate concerns. When she heard Daphne praise her, she muttered "It was Harry's idea; he was the one who said I should drop the club." Harry blushed and shuffled his feet at this.

"And _how," _McGonagall asked "did you know a girl from another House was in this lavatory?"

Daphne's poise faltered. "Ah, well," she shuffled her feet now. "Some of the people at our table were making fun of her because she'd been in here all day . . ."

Professor McGonagall's stern gaze instantly softened and switched to Hermione. "Is this true, Miss Granger?" When Hermione nodded, the elderly witch continued. "Are you sick, my dear?" She waded her way around the wreckage and put her hand on the girl's forehead.

Professor Flitwick shook his tiny head. "She seemed perfectly fine in my class this morning." His high-pitched voice laced with concern was almost heartbreaking.

"She hasn't been sick," a cool voice interrupted. All heads turned as Professor Snape limped—_Why is he limping? _Harry thought—from behind the other professors and fixed his cool eyes on Hermione. "Red eyes are not a symptom of disease. They come from another malady . . ." When no one responded, he clarified. "Miss Granger has been crying."

McGonagall's eyebrows rose, and she turned to Hermione. "Miss Granger, what happened?"

Hermione's breath caught in her throat. For a moment, she thought she was going to start crying again, but, somehow, she found the words to speak. "It was after Charms . . . I tried to help Ron with his levitation . . . but he wouldn't listen . . . Then . . . after class . . . I heard him talking to Seamus . . . and he said . . ."

_"__She's a nightmare! Honestly, it's no wonder she hasn't got any friends."_

The scene replayed itself in her mind in perfectly horrid clarity, and then it repeated. Her voice failed her, and Hermione discovered she still had some tears left. She buried her face in her hands, fully aware of how pathetic she looked to the assembled teachers and the two people who meant more to her than anyone else in the whole bloody school. Then she felt a pair of strong arms wrap around her sides and hold her close. Suddenly, she didn't mind crying anymore; instinctively, she turned into the embrace and wrapped her arms around Harry. Somehow or other, she knew it was him.

"Fifteen points," Daphne grumbled. "We felled a bloody Troll, and all we get is fifteen points?"

"Ten," Harry reminded her. "Hermione's in Gryffindor, remember." After Hermione had calmed down, Professor Dumbledore suggested that the students return to their dormitories while the professors removed the slumbering Troll. Snape had quickly volunteered to escort them. Since he'd sprained his ankle running down the stairs, he would be too distracted to help the others move the Beast. No one had commented on the amount of walking he would have to do with that "sprained ankle" to get the children back to the Gryffindor Tower and the Slytherin Dungeons—arguably the two furthest places in the castle.

Harry, however, was not fooled. "Okay, Severus, what happened?" he asked, turning to the Potions' master, who was leaning against the wall. They had already deposited Hermione (which was the only reason Daphne had waited until now to vent her displeasure) and were taking a rest on their way back to the Slytherin dormitories; it was a lot to put on an injured leg.

"Define 'what,' Harry," the man replied.

Harry rolled his eyes; as his mother would say "That man is the original grammar Nazi." It was phrase Harry didn't entirely understand, but he gathered that it had something to do with Snape's obsession with word order and spelling. Why his mother occasionally raised her right arm and shouted "Heil, English!" was totally beyond him.

"Why didn't you go after the Troll with other teachers, and why are you limping?"

Snape grimaced. "Observant as always, I see." He quickly looked down the corridors for wandering ghosts. Thankfully, there were no portraits in this hallway. "I went to check on . . ." he grimaced again, "Fluffy."

"_What?_" Harry cried.

"Keep your voice, down" Snape hissed.

Daphne's eyebrows soared up. "Why . . . What were you doing?"

Unlike most of the students, Harry and Daphne knew what was so dangerous about the forbidden corridor on the third floor. Snape had asked them to stay after class on the first day and explained that the third floor corridor was off-limits because there was a giant, three-headed dog chained up behind the door. Of course, he'd been mute when asked what the heck the school was doing hiding a giant three-headed dog behind a locked door!

Snape sighed. "I only told you about that creature so you two wouldn't try and break into the corridor to find out what the secret was." The two children glared at him. "Oh, give it a rest; you were probably already planning it." Now, they blushed; he was right. "The basic idea is this: "Fluffy," again, Snape grimaced at the name (only Hagrid would give a nightmare like that such a name), "stands on top of a trapdoor. Beneath that trapdoor are five more protections far more dangerous than a mere giant mutt."

Harry frowned. "Why?" he asked.

Daphne, was also frowning, but her eyes weren't focused on Snape like Harry's were. "'Protections,' what are they protecting?" Her frown morphed into a wide smile, and her eyes went wide and bright as a House-Elf's. "Is it a treasure? Something magical and wonderful?"

Snape sighed. "You could call it a treasure. It's magical, yes, but 'wonderful,' well, that question is open to debate."

Daphne frowned, but Harry looked thoughtful. "Why, Severus, what is it?"

Snape sighed a looked around again. "A philosopher's stone."

Both children gasped. They'd been told of the Philosopher's Stone; Snape could get rather talkative when the children became interested in Potions, and Alchemy was technically a branch of potion-making. The Philosopher's Stone (also known as the Sage's Stone, the Celestial Stone, the Ultimate Amplifier, the Red Elixir, and the Grand Arcanum) was the Master Work of Alchemy. Supposedly, it was capable of permanently transmuting any metal into pure gold and producing the Elixir of Life which could grant a person eternal youth and perfect health. No one could say for sure, however, because . . .

"I thought you said it was impossible to make a Philosopher's Stone," Harry said, frowning at Snape.

"No," Snape replied. "You asked why people didn't make them all the time, and I said they couldn't. Even if giving everyone in the world the ability to make infinite gold was a good idea—and it isn't—it's so difficult to create the Stone that almost no one's ever done it."

"But someone has," Daphne interrupted. She was looking up at Snape, her eyes gleaming.

"Yes, one person has, Nicholas Flamel, an old friend of the Headmaster's, and perhaps the most gifted alchemist in history."

"So, that's why you went to see Fluffy," Harry said. "You thought the Troll was going after the Stone."

"No, Harry," Snap replied. "A Troll could never get to the Stone if it could even understand what the Stone is. Remember, Troll's are imbecilic creatures; there's no way this one got in on its own. Someone let it in."

Harry and Daphne were silent a moment. Then, Daphne swallowed and asked ". . . To get to the Stone?"

Snape shrugged. "Maybe. I didn't see anyone when I went to check on _Fluffy. . ._ It might have just been a prank the Weasley Twins thought would be funny."

"But, Trolls are dangerous," Harry interrupted. "The Twins . . . Hermione always complains about how distracting they are, but they never do anything nasty.

"Not intentionally," Snape remarked. "But their judgment's no more perfect than anyone else's. To them—or any student, I imagine—it would have seemed perfectly harmless: letting the Troll in during the Feast, when everyone was in the Great Hall. It would scare everyone, perhaps destroy a few suits of armor or cause trouble in the Library, but no one would get hurt." Snape shook his head. "Lily told me a quote by a Muggle poet about how even 'the best-laid schemes' are capable of turning sour." He fixed his gaze upon the young pair, who looked up at him solemnly. "Always remember, no matter how clever you are, you can never predict everything that will happen in a given scenario; unexpected events _will _happen, especially if your predictions involve _people."_

The two nodded, and Snape sighed. "All right, enough talk; let's get you two off to bed." The three again set off toward the Slytherin Dormitories. They hadn't gone far when Snape spoke again. "Oh, and promise me you will _not go looking for the Stone," _he said, eyeing Daphne, who looked away, but promised. Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

Hermione, meanwhile, was laying in her bed, thinking over the events of the day. In one day, she had been emotionally crushed, nearly killed, and then battled a Troll with her best friends and emerged not only alive but victorious. A small part of her was grateful that neither the teachers nor her best friends had mocked her for her show of weakness earlier, but, mostly, her mind was replaying certain events like the toy slide show she used to play with.

Ron's cruel declaration after class.

The Troll swinging its club at her.

The sight of Harry and Daphne coming to her rescue.

Harry, holding her in his arms—twice.

She turned over in the darkness. Most of the other Gryffindors were continuing their party in the commonroom (the teachers not seeing the point in herding them all back to the Great Hall at this point), but she didn't have the energy for it. She was alone, as usual.

"Hermione?"

The bushy-haired witch spun back and sat up in her bed. _"Lumos!" _she said, with a little more intensity than usual. There, revealed in the soft light of her wand, was her roommate, Parvati Patil.

The Indian girl was blinking in the sudden light. "Sorry, I didn't mean to surprise you."

Hermione lowered her wand. "What are you doing here?"

"Well," the girl responded, her eyes now accustomed to Hermione's wand-light. "I noticed you come in with Professor Snape even though it looked like you were trying to avoid being seen. I thought you just came up here to freshen up and were going to join us later, but, I didn't see you in the commonroom later, so I came up here to check." She frowned. "Hermione, what's going on? Lavender and I didn't see you at dinner—I haven't seen you all day since Charms—and then the Troll came and . . . What were you doing out there?"

Hermione flushed. "I was in the loo."

"Since Charms?" Parvati asked, an eyebrow raised. Hermione nodded, and the Indian girl's other eyebrow went up as her mouth dropped. "You were? Why?"

Hermione shook her head; Parvati was nice, but she wasn't close enough for Hermione to admit what a child she'd been. Besides, she'd relived that moment enough times today.

Her roommate let out a _hmph. _"Fine, but at least tell me what happened?"

Hermione didn't want to live through the moment again, but she looked at Parvati's face, so soft and pleading, that, somehow, she found herself talking about how she had come out of the stall and seen the Troll's thorny legs.

She was slow, at first, stopping to steady herself or to remember what exactly happened. She spoke quietly, little more than a mumble. But, as it went on—although she didn't notice it—her voice became stronger. She began spilling out not only the details of Harry and Daphne's rescue, but what she had felt, the worry and the joy and the wonderful sense of . . . _something _that she couldn't identify but felt warm and painful and ever so _right _inside her.

Parvati listened without comment. Or rather, she never vocalized her comments; her eyebrows flew back up, and her jaw dropped when Hermione retold the Troll's attack. Her eyes went wide when the bush- haired witch described Harry and Daphne's entrance, she gasped when Harry leapt onto the Beast's back, and, when Hermione admitted how hugging Harry made her feel inside, the other witch gave a soft smile as her eyes relaxed into a half closed state.

When Hermione was done, Parvati remained silent for a time. Then, still smiling, she spoke, "I'm sorry to make you relive that, Hermione, but thank you for telling me."

Hermione smiled a tiny bit in return. "You're welcome, Parvati. Thank you for listening."

The other girl nodded. The two said nothing for a moment, before Parvati's smile changed. It shrank into a smirk, and her eyes examined Hermione with mischief. "So? You and Harry, huh?"

Hermione stared at Parvati for almost a minute before her mind deciphered what Parvati was asking. "Wha—Parvati, we're eleven!" she cried, her face becoming redder than it had been all night.

The other witch's grin widened. "So? You're not denying it."

Hermione glared at her before she realized something, and—though she would never admit it to the gossip-loving girl across from her—the thought of it made something inside of her shatter into a thousand tiny, fragile pieces which lacerated her insides as they fell. Her head dropped. "It doesn't matter," she whispered. She was no longer frowning, and her face was no longer hot; it was dead cold. "He's already engaged to Daphne."

"Oh," Parvati replied. "The betrothal contract, right . . ." She was silent for about three seconds. Then, "Oh, well, that doesn't matter too much."

Hermione's head shot up. "Yes, it does," she said, her voice tight. "They told me on the train that there's no way they can get out of it. Besides," Hermione fought back tears; she'd had enough crying for one day, "Harry told me that he couldn't imagine marrying anyone other than Daphne."

"Yes, you mentioned that at the Welcoming Feast," Parvati said gently. Ron had sat down at the table and began proclaiming to all who would listen that Harry Potter had gone Dark. This had provoked Hermione to counter his arguments with a list of good Slytherins, including_ Merlin. _Ron, of course, had refused to listen and spent the rest of the Feast stuffing his face. Parvati, however, was curious as to _how _she'd heard of those good Slytherins. The Muggleborn girl had reluctantly admitted that she'd ridden with Harry and Daphne on the train which launched a long inquiry into what Harry Potter was really like.

Hermione, however, was not in the mood to reminisce. "Then why-"

"Hermione," Parvati interrupted. "You have to understand, being a Muggleborn, there's a lot of our world that you don't know, things that many people are . . . not very eager to mention in the history books."

Hermione looked at her roommate warily. "Such as?"

Parvati shifted. "Well, Harry saved your life, you know. If you were a Muggle, I'm sure it would mean a lot, but it doesn't carry quite the same weight it does because you're a witch. Hermione," she bit her lip. "When one wizard saves another's life, it creates a bond between them. It's not a legal thing; right now, your own magic is recognizes that you owe Harry your life. At any time in the rest of your lives, he can demand you repay that dept."

Hermione paled. "'Repaid', how? What can I do? What are the rules?"

"There aren't many rules in your case I'm afraid," Parvati remarked. She eyed Hermione carefully. "Harry saved you without being asked or offered a reward, correct?" When the other girl nodded, she continued. "In fact, he jumped right on the Troll's back, put himself in mortal danger to save you, right?"

"But I stopped the Troll from hitting him with its club," Hermione interrupted. "Doesn't that make us even? And what about Daphne; do I owe her, too?"

Parvati shook her head. "Padma's always been better at this stuff than me, but, from what I understand, stopping the Troll from hitting Harry doesn't cancel the Debt, because Harry was only in danger because he was protecting you, Life Debts don't work when you either directly or indirectly put the person you're saving in danger. It doesn't help that you didn't risk your own life to save his."

Hermione gasped. She had endangered Harry's life because she nearly got killed. It had been bad enough to watch him nearly get crushed by the beast trying to protect her, but to hear it like that . . .

"As for Daphne," Parvati went on, "you owe her a Debt, too, but not so great. She's more limited in what she can ask of you because she didn't actually jump on the Troll's back." The Indian witch looked Hermione in the eye, and enunciated every word slowly and carefully. "I'll say it again: Harry put himself in immediate danger to protect you; he can demand pretty much anything of you, and you would have to do it."

"But . . ." Hermione struggled, "isn't there something I could do to make up for it?"

Parvati shook her head. "Hermione, you're not listening. What do you think you can do that can be equal to nearly dying to save your life?"

Hermione thought about it. "So . . . what you're saying is, I'm Harry's slave for life?"

Parvati shrugged. "Unless he ever ordered you to somehow endanger your own life to save his. That and being his slave are about the only ways you can ever fully repay him."

"That's . . . That's just _wrong," _Hermione breathed.

"Not really," Parvati said. When the bushy-haired witch looked at her like she had just suggested that murdering kittens was fun pastime, she explained. "Think about it. The only reason you owe Harry this Debt is because he was totally selfless. Why would a person like that ever abuse his power over you? You can't acquire a Life Debt over someone at all if you endanger her just to save her life and collect the Debt. If you even ask for a reward beforehand, or if the person in question offers you one, the Debt is much less. The reason Harry has total power over you, Hermione, isn't because of some random chance. Harry earned it by being genuinely noble, because he really, truly _cared _about you."

Hermione didn't know how to respond to that. While the idea of being a slave still totally terrified and disgusted her, Parvati had a point. If what Harry had just done hadn't proved that he was utterly incapable of hurting or allowing someone else to be hurt, what would?

Still, there was one thing that bothered her. "Parvati, I'm grateful to you for informing me of this, but I don't understand what it has to do with Harry and his betrothal to Daphne."

Parvati's smirk returned. "Well," she said, "traditionally, if a pretty, young witch owed a strong Life Debt to a brave and heroic wizard, he would invoke it to take her as his concubine."

". . . _WHAT?" _Hermione cried.

Parvati cringed. "Keep it down," she whispered.

"'Keep it down?' You just suggested . . . that Harry . . ." Hermione couldn't find the words to adequately express her indignation.

"Actually," Parvati said, her smirk now frightening Hermione more than a little, "I was thinking maybe you'd offer it to him. You wouldn't be the first."

Hermione stared at her. "You mean women would actually offer to become sex slaves?"

Parvati nodded. "My mother used to tell me and Parvati stories about this sort of thing when we were little. She said it was to 'prepare us for whatever might happen in our lives.' In India, young people don't get to choose whom they marry; their parents do. Additionally, the caste system is very restricting. Even in modern England, however, social status can have a powerful effect on a person's future. Look at it from this perspective: you're a young Indian witch from a minor caste—which, being Muggleborn you technically are." Hermione tried to interrupt, but Parvati held up her hand. "Let me finish. You have little prestige or status in society, a modest life style, and you know your parents will probably arrange for you to be married to a man you've never met before.

"Then, a young wizard saves your life. Maybe he's your friend, or maybe he's a complete stranger. You already know, however, that he's brave and selfless, and—in this case, at least—from a higher caste than you. Honestly, who would you rather spend your life with: the man your parents chose for you who may actually be cruel or at the very least uncaring or the man who proved that he would risk his own life before allowing you to be harmed? Which one, Hermione?"

Hermione dipped her head forward. ". . . I'd pick Harry," she said.

Parvati nodded. "So would I, Hermione, every time."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes: Aaaaaand, BREAK! I honestly intended to end this chapter with a confrontation between Hermione and Daphne about the concubine thing, but this chapter was stretching on too long as it was, so I ended it here. Sometimes, you just have to say "enough is enough," cliche', but true.<strong>

**Quick Notes! The alternate names for the Philosopher's Stone come from Fullmetal Alchemist (well, I think I might have made Ultimate Amplifier up, but I'm not sure, so I put it in anyway), and the phrase "Master Work" comes from Paulo Coelho's novel, _The Alchemist_. The poem Snape quotes is, of course, Robert Burns' _To a Mouse: _**

**_"But Mousie, thou art no thy lane,  
>In proving foresight may be vain:<br>The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men  
>Gang aft agley,<br>An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,  
>For promis'd joy!"<em>**

**_Or, in English:_**

**_"But little Mouse, you are not alone,  
>In proving foresight may be vain:<br>The best laid schemes of mice and men  
>Go often awry,<br>And leave us nothing but grief and pain,  
>For promised joy!"<em>**


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: Whew, this thing is going be longer than I thought! Good news for some of you, annoying for me because I'd rather work on World Tree, but what you gonna do (especially when this thing is so much more popular than World Tree)? Sorry it's been a while. Anyway, I've been pestered about revealing the "Harem List," so I put it at the bottom of the Author's Note at the end of this chapter. Read if you are dying to know, if not, it's easy to ignore. Be Warned: not everyone will be a wife or a hetaera; some of them will be consorts and concubines.**

**LAST NOTE! DO _NOT_ SKIP THIS!: **It occurred to me the other day that I could very possibly die without finishing this or any of my other stories. I was riding with my mother to visit some relatives, and we were crossing the bridge, I though about the bridge breaking, we fall in, and these stories remain unfinished. I can't stand that thought. Honestly, I'd rather end up like Robert Jordan than have this story end like Chaucer's pilgrims of Dickens' _The Mystery of Edwin Drood. _So, if I ever go, say, two months without updating anything, please presume me dead and someone,_ please,_ _someone_, adopt my stories and finish them. On a related note, I'll put back up the removed chapters of _Harry Potter and Harry Potter. _That one and the other things I haven't touched in years (like the _Lightsing _series, if anyone actually cares about that sad, failed start) are up for adoption. I'd appreciate it if someone could give them a good home.

**Confrontations**

It was dawn. Hermione knew this, as she rolled over in her bed, because Parvati had gotten out of her own bed and was performing her morning prayers. Out of respect of the others, she was usually quiet, by Hermione heard anyway.

Hermione opened her eyes, and silently watched as the Indian girl kneeled to the East. Even if Hermione could make out the words—and she usually couldn't—she would still have had no idea what Parvati was whispering, but the soft Arabic words sounded like poetry to her drowsy mind.

Parvati was evidently finished; she straightened up, and began rolling up her prayer mat. Hermione bit her lip in shame and rolled over again, squeezing her eyes shut. _I really shouldn't do that. She's praying, not putting on a show. _

The bushy-haired witch sighed to herself. Parvati had been really helpful to her, although Hermione didn't know if she would be able to utilize any of that help anytime soon.

The door opened and closed softly; Parvati had gone to the girls' loo to wash up. This, then, was probably the best time to get up without starting any awkward conversations. Quietly, so as not to wake the still sleeping Lavender, Hermione climbed out of bed.

Padding over to her dresser, she thought to herself, _Should I confront Harry about the Life Debt? Maybe I should talk to McGonagall first. _But, she flushed as she tried broaching the subject to the professor. There was no way she could do it. So, there was only one option left, was her oldest and most faithful stand-by . . .

* * *

><p>Hermione flipped through the large book until she got to the three hundredth and twenty-sixth page. The pages were stiff from lack of use; she guessed this particular tome hadn't been opened in quite a while. Its title was <em>The Spells and Rites of Binding, <em>author unknown;aside from this one, there were four other books piled around her on the table with titles like _On the Nature of Magic; The Proper Wizard's Guide to Concubines; Wives, Consorts, and Concubines; _and _Laws of Magical Britain and treaties with the Greater Magical World. _Currently, she was examining the eighth chapter, "On Concubines." It ran:

_The taking of a concubine is a serious matter, not to be undertaken by the light of heart or purse. Some foolish persons will acquire a concubine without thinking of the consequences. They forget that they are required to think of the costs of feeding and providing medical care for their property. Also, they neglect to consider how their wives may react; while some unloving marriages have been unharmed or even aided by the addition of a new bedmate, many a wife's ire has been incurred because a wizard did not think before he acted. _

"Seems rather negative to me, doesn't it?" Daphne asked over Hermione's shoulder.

"_Eeaah!" _Hermione cried, instantly swiveling around and bumping her head into Daphne's.

"Ouch," the blonde witch said, rubbing her forehead. "Be careful, 'Mione; that hurt."

"You shouldn't have snuck up on me," Hermione retorted, rubbing the top of her own head. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"Well," Daphne said, "I thought this was the best place to find you. We need to talk, Hermione.," she said, taking a seat.

". . . all right," Hermione said. "What do you want to talk about?" Inwardly, of course, she had a very good idea what the other girl wanted to discuss, but there was no need to invite trouble that might not actually exist.

Daphne just smirked. "Come _on, _Hermione," she said, dragging on of the bushy-haired witch's books towards herself. "You don't need to be a koi."

Hermione just stared at the other girl. ". . . I think you mean 'be coy,'" she said.

Daphne blushed. "Whatever. The point is, I know that you know about the Life Debt you owe Harry. And, judging by what you're looking at right now," Hermione slammed the book she'd been reading shut, her face bright red, "you must know that one way to deal with it is to become Harry's concubine." She smirked as she said it.

Hermione blushed. "Listen, Daphne, I don't want to; actually, I've been trying to find a way out of this-"

"Why not, 'Mione?'" Daphne asked, smiling wider now. "Is my fiancé not handsome enough for you?

"Of course, he's handsome! It's just—Wait! I mean . . ." Hermione's face became even hotter as she desperately tried to backpedal.

Daphne, curse her, was laughing. _"Ah-hahahaha! _I'm sorry, Hermione, I just couldn't help it." She actually wiped a tear away from her eye. "I'm _sorry, _Hermione, _really," _she said when she saw the brunette glaring at her.

Hermione scowled just a moment longer, before sighing. "It's all right, Daphne, I guess it was a little funny. Now," she said, recomposing herself. "What do you want to talk about?"

Daphne smiled. "Well, I can tell you don't want to be a concubine, and, honestly, I agree with that. Now, don't get me wrong," she said, her eyes shining with mischief. "There's nothing wrong with being a concubine-"

"_Nothing wrong?" _Hermione blurted. Was every pureblood this cavalier about the sexual enslavement of women?

"-especially when the man is as good as Harry," Daphne continued as if the interruption hadn't occurred. "But, in your case, it would be a tragic loss." Hermione just stared at her, lost for words. "You're very pretty, Hermione, but you're also the most gifted witch I know, and you're brave and kind and passionate about what you believe in. And, most importantly," she said, staring Hermione right in the eye, "you care deeply and genuinely about Harry. No, Hermione, I think you'd be better as a hetaera."

". . . a what?" Hermione asked weakly, giving up trying to understand what was going on in her friend's mind.

"A hetaera," Daphne answered. She pushed the book over to Hermione. It was _Wives, Consorts, and Concubines. _"My family owns a copy of this; I've been reading it since I was eight," she said with a small smile. Hermione decided not to comment on that. Daphne tapped the cover. "There's a chapter on hetaerae; chapter five, I think. I think you'll believe the book more than me."

Hermione took the book and opened its table of contents, not certain how she should feel about such a comment. She scanned the page:

_Introduction, p. 1_

_Marriage: Husbands and Wives, p. 11 _

_Marriage: Husbands and Consorts, p. 44_

_Concubines: Slaves or Pets, p. 82_

_Concubines: Hetaerae, p. 97_

_Group Dynamics: Balancing Relationships, p. 132_

_The Demands of Fatherhood, p. 153_

_Conclusion, p. 188_

Some of the descriptions were . . . eyebrow raising, but Hermione decided to come back to those later, and flipped to page 97. The opening paragraph was . . . different than the last one.

_The hetaera is a special kind of concubine; the title is Greek, and it is the Greeks who first invented the ritual of binding a hetaera to a man and his family. However, there is evidence that previous civilizations often had a specific class of concubine who, although under the same binding as her fellows was treated differently and provided her master(s) with more than just sexual pleasure. For that is what it means to be a hetaera. She serves her master sexually, yes, and may indeed bare his heirs if his wife is not able to do so, but she also pleases his mind. Hetaerae sing and dance, recite—sometimes even compose poetry, and speak with their masters about current events and politics. A hetaera is an entertainer and a comforter, an advisor and a confidant. _

_If one compares the binding rituals for an ordinary concubine and a hetaera, one will notice . . ._

It then went into the nature of the ritual; while it did make reference to the "standard" ritual for binding a concubine (presumably discussed in the previous chapter) Hermione could discern what the author was talking about. There were apparently two parts to the ritual. First was an incantation spoken allowed by the "master" with the "slave-to-be" replying. Secondly was "the physical acts" (she had to turn to the next page to read this part)—_oh! _. . . oh, dear. The next section included an illustration—an enchanted, moving illustration—along with a _very _detaileddescription of what "the physical acts" were.

"I'd skip to the end of the chapter if I were you," Daphne breathed into her ear. Hermione jumped a little again, but this time, avoided hitting heads with her friend; it was amazing how the other girl could just sneak up on her at will. Daphne took no notice of her, however, merely gesturing at the book. There was a giant smile on her face.

Hermione frowned, but did as Daphne suggested. The last page was only a few sentences,

_To say that a master always loves, truly loves, his hetaera(e)is, of course, an overstatement. It is true that hetaerae usually enjoy closer relationships with their masters than all too many wives. However, this does not preclude feels of friendship from existing between a wife and a hetaera or even a standard concubine. In fact, the ideal relationship in a magical family is one of harmony between all partners, which is discussion of the next chapter._

Hermione reread the paragraph. Then, she looked at Daphne; she opened her mouth to ask a question, but, before she could-

"Miss Granger!" Professor McGonagall called. "Miss Granger!"

Hermione jumped up, slamming the book in front of her shut. The professor wasn't on top of them yet; no need to let her know what the two of them had been reading. She got out of her chair and turned to go in the direction of the elderly witch's voice. She couldn't make it past Daphne, though.

Her blond friend snapped out her hand, holding her for five seconds. Daphne whispered into her ear, "We'll talk more later," then kissed her on the cheek. Hermione stood stone still with a blush on her face, staring at her friend . . . until the professor called her name again. Then, she took off like a spell.

"Professor!" she cried, almost running the other woman over.

The older woman still jumped a little. "Goodness, Miss Granger, I would expect that I shouldn't have to tell you not to run in the Library."

Hermione's blushed deepened at the scolding, which was perhaps beneficial to her goal of staying incognito on the subject of her latest "research project." "I'm, Professor. It won't happen again."

McGonagall nodded. "That's good to hear. Now then , Professor Dumbledore has asked to see you."

Hermione squeaked a little. "He wants to see me, but why?"

McGonagall shrugged. "I don't know, but I presume it has something to do with . . . recent events. Come with me, please."

Hermione nodded and followed her.

* * *

><p>"Good afternoon, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said, unwrapping a candy. "Can I interest you in a lemon drop?"<p>

"No thank you, sir," the young witch said. She was sitting across from him at his desk, trembling. Had he called her hear to-

"Very well," he said, popping the treat into his mouth. "Miss Granger, Harry saved your life last night, correct?" She nodded. "A very good thing, he did—a very _selfless _thing. Hermione, you may be unaware of this, but, because he saved your life, you owe young Harry a tremendous debt."

"A Life Debt," Hermione whispered.

Dumbledore's eyebrows rose. "Where did you hear that phrase, my dear?"

Hermione blushed, but answered, "Some of my friends were talking about it, sir." For some reason, she decided against saying that it was Parvati who had revealed her situation to her.

Dumbledore stared at her in silence for a moment, then asked, "And what else did they tell you, my dear?"

Hermione blushed and lowered her head. "That I'd never be able to repay him."

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, there really is nothing that can equal saving a life, except, perhaps, saving more lives . . ." Hermione looked up, and saw that the headmaster was no longer looking at her; he was leaning back in his chair, staring off into the distance. She had to wonder, just how old was he? He had fought the Dark Lord Grendelwald in 1945, forty-six years ago. For some reason, she had never read anything hinting at his life before that. But, then he sighed and turned back to her, "However, I think I know how you can partially repay him."

Hermione sucked in her breath, "How?" Would he tell she would have to become Harry's concubine or hetaera?

"Hermione, my dear," Dumbledore said, again looking her in the eye, "did Harry ever tell you that his father was well known for his talents at . . . finding trouble?"

Hermione shook her head slowly. "No, Harry mostly only talks about his mother."

Dumbledore shrugged a little. "Understandable. She is the only parent he knows, but, I assure you, Miss Granger, it is true. James Potter never could go long without finding himself in one predicament or another. A life-style, I fear, Harry may be falling into."

Hermione nodded, and the old wizard continued. "Hermione, I think it would be prudent for you to keep an eye on young Harry for me."

Hermione actually jumped a little in her seat. "You want me to _spy _on Harry?" How could he . . .?

Dumbledore shook his head, "I would never ask you to betray your friend, Miss Hermione. But, you must admit, noble as rescuing you from the Troll was, it was not in any way safe." When the young witch didn't respond, he continued, "I'm not asking you to spy on Harry, my dear, just to . . . watch out for your friend."

"I'll . . ." Hermione struggled. "I'll think about it, Professor."

Dumbledore nodded, then leaned back in his chair. "Thank you, Miss Granger, that's all I ask."

* * *

><p>Dumbledore looked out the window of his office. Through it, he could see out over the Grounds. It looked like Fawkes, his phoenix, was playing with the Threastrals. Perhaps he should have used a <em>Confundus <em>Charm on Miss Granger, but he dismissed that notion almost immediately. Compulsions only worked for a short period of time, before the victim broke through them. He could reapply, of course, but that would raise suspicion. Besides, compelling someone to do something rarely yielded equal or better results than getting their voluntary cooperation; both victims of the _Imperious _Curse and those under the effects of the _Confundus _Charm were unable to act on their own and followed instructions without deviation or addition. On top of all that, fiddling around with people's heads, especially a _child's, _was . . . hazardous.

No, Dumbledore had long ago reconciled himself, more or less, to the fact that young Harry had to die for the Greater Good, but he didn't want any more unnecessary suffering than there already had been. Right now, doing any damage to Harrry's Muggleborn friend counted in that category.

_She'll suffer anyway, _he thought. There was no helping that, Harry's death wouldn't be just a blow to the boy himself, everyone who ever had or would befriend the Potter heir would mourn his death . . . along with his mother.

Dumbledore frowned at that, _his mother . . . _ For the past nine-and-a-half years, Professor Dumbledore had been wondering just _how _the woman had survived what he had deemed to be an inescapable death trap. Publically, he explained it as the result of James' sacrifice. That wasn't entirely implausible; it was known amongst a few elite scholars of Sorcery, the study of magic itself, that an act of sacrifice tended to have nasty effects on those who practiced the Dark Arts, but James' actions seemed too indirect, battling a powerful foe to allow your loved ones to escape was not enough to have destroyed Voldemort, _Voldemort: _the most powerful Dark Lord he had ever encountered . . . that was a little harder to believe. And then, there was the _other _question, the crux of the whole dilemma, or rather, the _Horcrux. _He had had young Harry secretly examined, and it had confirmed what he'd suspected since that Halloween night: Harry's scar carried within it a piece of Voldemort's soul. There was no way the mutated and corrupted wizard could be permanently defeated until that fragment of his soul was destroyed, and, regrettably, the only way to do that was to destroy its container, Harry.

Harry, therefore, had to die, sadly, but what confused Dumbledore was the fact that Lily and her young daughter, Daisy, were both completely untainted by such foul magicks. Dumbledore had been certain that Lily would have been infected with a fragment of soul just as Harry had, but, when he had arranged for another Healer to examine her during a routine check-up, he had discovered that he had been wrong. He had then moved to have her newborn daughter examined, theorizing that the soul fragment had infected the child in the womb. It made sense, in a way: both Harry and Daisy had been young and thus had fewer defenses, both mental and magical; the piece of Voldemort's soul that had hypothetically infected Lily could have latched onto the still developing Daisy instead of her mother. Yet, when the Healer delivered her results, Daisy Potter had proven negative for a foreign spiritual presence.

He had been unable to explain it (although, he suspected it was somehow connected to whatever it was that had saved Lily's, and thus Daisy's, life), but, in the end, he had decided to stop worrying about it so much and just be thankful he wouldn't have to kill them too. He'd have enough to answer for when he left this world without adding their deaths to the list.

On that note, he decided, turning back to his desk, it was time to get back to the work of damning himself to save the rest of the world. A special relic had arrived earlier this morning, and it was time to put to good use.

* * *

><p><strong>Well, I hope that was worth the wait. Sorry that it was so "text heavy" but, hopefully there will be more action in the next chapter. Also, Harry will actually show up in the next chapter. Promise.<strong>

**Author's Note: **OK, lots of stuff happening here. Firstly, I know that the Patils are usually written as Hindu, but, as far as I could tell, Rowling herself never made any comment on their religion. India has people of many religions, and Islam is the second most popular after Hinduism, so I thought "What they heck, why not?"

Secondly, I hope this explains more about Dumbledore. I'm not all together fond of making him out as "Voldemort with a beard." He's a genuinely good man who does bad things because he thinks they are necessary, and he feels real remorse over it, which is more the pity.

**All Right, If You Want To Read It, Here's The List (In No Particular Order):**

1. Daphne Greengrass

2. Hermione Granger

3. Parvati Patil

4. Padma Patil

5. Luna Lovegood

6. Tracy Davis

7. Ginny Weasley

8. Susan Bones

9. Gabrielle Delacour

10. Katie Bell


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Notes: **Ok, just wanted to address a few things first.

First: To everyone whose ever complained about this: Rowling, so far as I know never discussed the Patils' religion. India has a large population full of religious diversity. Hindu's are the majority, but by no means the only group. There are plenty of Indian Muslims, so it's not implausible that the Patils are, just unlikely. Islam is not an Arabs only religion. I just thought I'd have a little fun making these two something they're usually not.

Second: dragoon109, uh, yeah, Snape kind of did tell Voldemort the Prophecy which set him on the Potters' trail in the first place. And, yeah, James was a jerk to him in school, but I don't think it was anything he deserved to die over. James eventually grew up, and Severus sort of lagged behind in the maturity department. And, remember, Snape called Lily a racial slur TO HER FACE. That sort of thing _really _turns girls off.

Thirdly: Everyone please stop busting my chops on Ginny. I have a plan.

Fourthly: I'm working on reposting this all on Ficwad, so I can eventually write the sex scenes and not risk losing this story. I tried hpfanfiction, but that site just kept failing to upload the story so it rapidly became too much effort to reselect every tag for nothing.

Ok, sorry if I hurt any feelings, I just had to say all that (it kind of ticks me off when people make bad assumptions about other cultures or religions, not to say I haven't because I have. It's just, well, part of what seems to be a major problem in America right now).

Oh, yeah, Fifthly: I've considered making modified "harem list" (man, I feel dirty just writing that) that identifies what roles each member will fulfill (wife, consort, concubine, or hetaera). Let me know if you think I should, and if enough people say "yes," I'll do it.

And, Sixthly: I've posted my first Challenge. You can find the long version at the bottom of my profile, and a short thing called _Grimm Effect-Example_ that reiterates the rules, although I mainly wrote it to give people ideas. Short version: Someone please write a Crossover between NBC'S _Grimm _and Bioware's _Mass Effect. _Read the rules or the example if that interests you.

* * *

><p><strong>Further Developments<strong>

Hermione slumped ungracefully down at her table in the Library. Daphne was gone now, so she had no one to talk to about Professor Dumbledore's request. Of course, you're not supposed to tell people when you're spying on them, and there was no way to spy on Harry without getting Daphne involved. _No, _she thought. _I'm not supposed to spy on them; I'm supposed to "keep an eye on them."_

The young witch groaned. Where had Daphne gone off to? She _needed _her friends right now. Burying her face in her hands, she began to cry softly. A teacher had told her to do something, but she knew it would mean _betraying_ her friends. _What am I supposed to do?_ she asked, over and over.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, in the Owlery, Daphne had problems of her own: convincing her boyfriend to take their mutual best friend as a sex slave. Not an issue most girls had to deal with, of couse, but they weren't Daphne. "Come <em>on, <em>Harry! It's perfect!"

"Daph," Harry sputtered, "how . . . how is this 'perfect?'"

His fiancé _huff_-ed and replied, "Harry, I'm going to be your _consort. _My babies will be Greengrasses. You need a girl to have lots of Potter babies so your family won't die out. WE both think Hermione's brilliant—not just smart, I mean. She's great. I can't think of anyone better."

"Then why can't I just marry her and make her my wife?" Harry asked.

Daphne shook her head. "Hermione needs people to guide that . . . passion of hers. If she had the freedom of being your wife, she'd have no one to reign her in and . . . Well, _think _about it!"

Harry did and winced slightly. "Even so . . . It just feels wrong, Daph."

Daphne sighed, shaking her head. Harry was just so . . . _noble. _It was part of the reason she loved him, but, right now, it was a problem. Unfortunately, she knew him well enough to know when he had was digging his heels in, which was what he was doing at that moment. Unlike her, Harry didn't argue hard from the get go, but saying "it just feels wrong" was his version of crossing his arms and turning around. He just wasn't willing to show it was all.

So, it was time to switch tactics. If honest reasoning couldn't work on him, honest feelings would have to do. "Harry," she said. ". . . she's my best friend, _our _best friend, and . . . she likes you, really _likes _you." Harry blushed a little at this. "My mother's told me stories, and I've read things . . . we could lose her, Harry. I . . . I don't want that." Her eyes were not getting wet. She was _not _that emotional.

Harry took her hand. "That's . . . that's her choice, Daph."

Daphne looked him in the eye and threw her arms around his neck, weeping. So she was emotional, who cared?

Harry wrapped his arms around her . . . and wondered what he could say or who he could go to.

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"Oh, boy," Lily Potter said as she read the letter her oldest friend had written to her. Finding out that her son had taken on a Troll was . . . unnerving, no matter how elating it was to hear that he had won. _He's taking after his father. _ James would have so proud of him.

Lily sighed, thinking about her husband. He and she had had a very difficult discussion the day after Lord Jonathan Longbottom had died battling Death Eaters and left Lady Augusta a widow. It had become obvious that day that it was a very real possibility that they might not die or survive together. The fact that Lily was pregnant at the time only exacerbated the situation. Ultimately, and reluctantly, they had reached the agreement that if one of them perished in the war, the other one would carry on . . . which included searching for a new partner. This was especially important to ensure that little Harry had a healthy, normal childhood. They never allowed the thought that _he _might die to enter into their minds.

Thus far, Lily hadn't really fulfilled that promise. Severus was the only man she'd had any real contact with in the past few years, apart from a few visits from Remus, but Severus was her friend, almost her brother. She had learned back in school that she couldn't love him romantically, no matter how much _he_ had obviously loved _her._

"Mom, whatcha reading?" a voice cried over her left shoulder.

"Daisy!" Lily cried, jumping a little in her seat. "How often have I told you to not climb on the furniture?"

Her daughter grinned and slid down off the back of the chair with a "Sorry," of questionable sincerity.

Lily shook her head. Harry may have gotten his father's looks, but Daisy had his personality. Next year, Hogwarts was going to become . . . much more interesting. "I got a letter from your uncle Severus," she said. "Your brother and sister had an interesting adventure with their friend Hermione." Daisy had begun referring to Daphne as her big sister years ago, her argument being _"He's my brother, so, you're my sister," _and this was _before_ anyone had explained the concept of in-laws to her.

"Really?" Daisy asked, her eyes wide. Then, she squinted and chewed her lip for a moment. When she finally stopped, she asked, "Does this mean Hermione is going to be my sister, too?"

"Why." Lily stuttered. "What makes you think that?"

"Because, when boys and girls have adventures, they get married at the end," Daisy said, sounding just like her father did whenever he explained something he thought was totally obvious.

Lily reflected that she may have the only ten-year-old in the world who read too much.

". . . We'll see about that," she said at length. Lily understood the nature of House laws and that Harry needed a Potter wife to keep the family alive. She also knew about concubines and hetaerae from one very uncomfortable conversation with Daphne . . .

* * *

><p>"<em>LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, WELCOME TO THE FIRST QUIDDITCH MATch OF THE YEAR! GRYFFINDOR VS. SLYTHERIN!" <em>Seamus Finnegan shouted into his . . . microphone . . . thing. It was a cone with a tube attached to the end. Hermione could see it from her seat, and she still had no idea what it was. Though, perhaps she was just trying to ignore the bigger question: who should she root for? Harry was her best friend—and now, possibly her future fiancé/slavemaster—but he was in the opposing House, a House whose other occupants were mostly, to put it mildly, jerks.

Gryffindor by contrast was . . . better. The three Chasers—Katie Bell, Angelina Jones, and Alica Spinet—were nice when she met them in the Commonroom, and the Weasley twins, whilst unrepentant troublemakers, were much nicer than their younger brother. Wood, though, was a nonentity to her; she had never met him before. Cormac MacLaggen, the new Seeker, however, was, to quote Parvati, "a dark-haired Malfoy who got mis-Sorted." The number of times she had seen him trying to chat up any girl in the school, or heard him bragging about either his family's accomplishments or his own . . .

Regardless of which team won or lost, Hermione really hoped Harry beat MacLaggen.

"_Wheeeeeeeeet!" _Madam Hooch's whistle sounded, cutting through her thoughts like a knife. The game had begun.

For the first hour or so, things went well. Gryffindor and Slytherin were tied at 20 points each. Then she saw Harry and MacLaggen diving through the air—they were going for the Snitch! Hermione squinted her eyes; she occasionally saw a flash of gold, but couldn't be certain if it was her imagination or a reflection off someone's watch. She was certain it was the Snitch, though; that was the only reason the two Seekers would have been racing each other.

That was when things went very bad.

"What's goin' on wit' 'Arry's broom?" Hagrid asked, peering through his extra-large binoculars. The broom in question was jerking all over the place, like a horse trying to throw its rider. It went left, then right, then bounced, then forward, then left. . . Harry was holding on tightly, but the broom was only getting wilder.

"Harry!" Hermione cried. If he fell . . . if he _died . . . _Madam Hooch flew over to try to grab him, but the broom jerked away from her. She pulled her wand out, but couldn't aim because of how much it was moving.

Then, Harry jumped off his broom and into the open air.

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><p>Harry James Potter was having a bad day.<p>

He had been training with the Slytherin team ever since Severus had heard about how he caught Neville's Remembrall after Draco threw it from his broomstick. The other man's justification for why his House should get a prodigy when they'd won the House Cup for the past six years being "I'd like at least one member of my team to be a decent human being." Dumbledore had chided Severus for his choice of words, but allowed the other man his wish.

At first, this had meant Harry could get his broom from home and fly as much as he liked. Whenever studying became too much or he had something on his mind and Daphne and Hermione weren't near, he'd jump on his Nimbus and soar into the clouds, race the birds, or look out on the Grounds. Unfortunately, there was an inevitable flip-side to this coin. Hearing Marcus Flint criticize his every mistake and constantly call him "Halfblood" was not anyone's idea of a good time. Thankfully, Flint lacked the brainpower to slander his mother, or he actually _had _some brains and chose not to. It was hard to tell.

Then came the game itself. Harry was pretty sure he could have beaten MacLaggen had his broom not started trying to kill him. At first, it looked like Madam Hooch was going to save him, but the broom seemed bent on throwing him, whipping him away and bucking even harder.

It was getting harder to hold on; Harry's hands were hurting, and his head was pounding. He saw Madam Hooch draw her wand, but she couldn't get a bead on him with the broom constantly jerking about.

_! _One of Harry's hands SLIPPED OFF!

_Oh, no! _he thought, grabbing the handle again, squeezing tighter. He was safe—for now, but Harry realized that he didn't have much time left. So, using whatever brains he had left in his rattled skull, he did the only thing he could think of. He leaped of his broom in the general direction of Madam Hooch.

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><p>"Guess Potter can't handle a broom—<em>Ow!" <em> Draco's joking was cut off as Daphne pushed past him to get down from the Slytherin House box. Seeing her fiancé's broom fly out of control, seeing Harry leap jump out in the air and (apparently) just barely be saved by Madam Hooch who stopped him from plummeting to the Earth below . . . She didn't have time for the snowy-haired, smart-mouthed ferret.

She pushed and shoved her way through the older students in the back rows, some of whom having already figured out that they should get moving now to be at the front of the inevitable crowd. As such, she got pushed into the walls as well. Soon, the young witch found herself in what amounted to a running wrestling match with students more than twice her size. Somehow, she slipped her way through and was in front of the others when Madam Hooch brought Harry down to the grass. His broom had fallen shortly after he'd jumped off it.

Daphne wrapped her arms around him and squeezed as hard as she could. She heard him cry out her name, complaining about breathing problems, but she didn't care; she didn't let up.

"_HARRY!" _ Daphne was brought back to reality when she heard the voice of her best friend shout her beloved's name. The bushy-haired girl then plowed into both of them, hugging Harry herself. None of the three were overly concerned with the voices of teachers and students surrounding them.

"Harry . . ." Hermione started. ". . . What where you . . . why did you _do that?"_

Daphne could feel the boy's face and neck heat up. "Well . . ." he said. "I figured it was the best way for Madam Hooch to get me down. I didn't think she could do it while I was still on my broom."

This of course, drew the referee's ire down on the boy, as the teachers began attempting to pry the trio apart to examine Harry.

* * *

><p>Hermione, for the first time in her life, was ignoring what the teachers were saying. All she could think about was what Professor Dumbledore had said to her the other day . . . Danger seemed to be a part of Harry's life, and he sometimes made very risky decisions; maybe there should be someone watching out for him . . . somehow . . .<p>

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><p><strong>Notes: <strong>Ok, sorry if the plot didn't seem to go anywhere in this one, but it is "Further Developments." The actual Stone-hunting will start soon, I just needed this chapter to set up things to come. Also, I needed that side note with Lily and Daisy to tie them back into this mess and finally explain that Lily and Snape ARE NOT TOGETHER. I suppose Chapter 2 kind of suggested that, but sorry, that was never part of the story. I considered making them "friends with benefits" (basically, screwing each other whenever Lily's had a rough day), but I don't really approve of that, and it felt really disrespectful and really unhealthy to the characters and their relationship. I don't really know if Lily and Snape will EVER get together, although it's vaguely possible. I do have a plan for Lily though, so stayed tuned.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Notes: **Hello, all, sorry this one isn't longer for the time it took. Hopefully the next one will be more substantial.

Penny is Wise: Yeah, we all hope so. But, at the risk of spoiling, that is going to take some significant work. Hermione's respect/obedience to authority figures is an important part of her character.

wizmage and red: Thank you both.

Panaka: I addressed this issue back in Chapter 2 or 3. Merlin being in Slytherin was something Rowling stated as canon for the HarryPotterverse. The real King Arthur was recently discovered to have lived in the late 5th and early 6th Centuries. However, he was long considered a purely mythical figure, so, it's likely that Rowling never heard of this and just put Merlin in the 11th Century for convenience. Merlin himself is considered a purely fictitious character, anyway.

DragonBard: Sorry, don't really care much for her.

Guest: Hijab and such things are not mandatory for Muslims. Muslim women are required to be humble; the Hijab is just one way some choose to be humble. Others were the veil, and others don't where any such things, they just dress a little less ostentatiously. _Sigh, _I wish everyone would stop arguing me over this and just roll with it. It boggles my mind that some people will accept Harry turning evil without a second thought, but I change the religion of two minor characters (whose belief systems were never even elaborated upon in the books), and I get no end of trouble. _Sigh, _sorry if this sounds like I'm taking this out on you, Guest, I'm just tired of having to constantly argue in favor of what I thought was a fun change of pace.

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><p><strong>Baby Norbert<strong>

Because of Harry's . . . "ingenuity," he suffered no injuries from jumping off his broom while over 200 feet in the air. He _did, _however, sit through a long series of _very _long lectures. First, from Madam, Hooch, then Madam Pomfrey (whose speech was twice as long and three times as harsh), then Dumbledore popped in to put in a few words, then Severus, then . . . Daphne and Hermione.

Which we join already in progress . . .

"And, if you _ever _do anything that reckless ever again, I will never speak to you again, Harry Potter!" Hermione yelled. They were sitting on the edge of the Black Lake, throwing rocks and listening to the birds. Or, they would be if Harry hadn't almost killed himself the day before.

"Hermione, I'm sorry. I just . . . I thought it was my best option," Harry sighed. He was getting tired of all this. He already knew what she was going to say next.

"Harry," Hermione continued, "you need to trust the professors more! They're . . ."

"Teachers?" Daphne offered. Honestly, even she was beginning to think this was taking too long. Especially since Hermione's reasoning seemed to be best summarized as "Follow the teachers blindly!"

"Exactly!" Hermione cried at Daphne's suggestion. "They're wiser, and more skilled than us, and they're the ones we're supposed to listen to!"

Harry sighed. "All right, Hermione," he said, knowing better than to argue with the logic his mother had taught him. "I promise I'll be more careful from now on. Why don't we go see Hagrid?" Hopefully, a trip to the gentle half-Giant would take the girls' minds off recent events.

* * *

><p>Neither girl was fooled by his attempt at distracting them, judging from their frowns and angled eyebrows, but they agreed to walk over to the Groundskeeper's hut. Hagrid lived in what most people would consider a small home; for someone as large as the half-Giant, it must have been tiny, but he seemed very fond of it. It was always tidy and full of the scents of extremely strong tea and Hagrid's infamous rock-hard cakes. So, when the trio walked up to Hagrid's door and smelled smoke and . . . something that was neither tea nor cakes, and Hagrid opened the door only part of the way to tell them "Bit of a mess. You might want to come back later," they were all surprised.<p>

Then, they heard a scratching sound.

Hagrid disappeared back into the hut, leaving the door wide open. The trio tentatively stepped inside. One thing was obvious; there was no mess. Hagrid was hunched over the fireplace, pulling a large object out of the flames. _"Ow, ooh, ooh" _he said, holding the dark object in his hands. It was about the size of Hagrid's own head and shiny. Hagrid placed in on the table, where it wiggled on its own accord.

"Hagrid," Harry asked, "what is that?"

"Oh, that" Hagrid replied. "Well, uh, that's a dragon egg, that is."

"A _DRAGON _EGG?" Daphne cried. Harry and Hermione spun around to look at her. The blonde witch was leaning over the table, her eyes wide. Her mouth needed another moment to properly form words. "Hagrid . . . dragons are illegal. What are you thinking?"

"Well, it'll be tough, I imagine, but I got everything I need right 'ere," the Groundskeeper replied, pulling out a book that looked as old as the castle itself. "See," he said opening it, "it says you gotta keep the egg in a fire, 'cause their mother's breathe on 'em . . ."

"Hagrid," Hermione interrupted, "you live in a _wooden _house!"

"Ah, don't worry 'bout that," Hagrid replied. Whatever he was going to say next was cut off by a sharp _crack-_ing.

_Crack! Cra-cra-a-a-ck! "Bra-arrh! Grar."_

The egg was broken, and there, in the center of the table, was a tiny, black and brown, dragon. All four stared at the little reptile. It was about a foot long, with leathery wings attached to its forearms like a bat. It had a slender tail that was roughly as long as its body. Its small feet slipped over the remains of its own egg.

"Isn't 'e cute!" Hagrid cried. His eyes even began to tear up a little. The tiny dragon turned to look up at him. _"Awwwww, _'e knos 'is mummy! 'Ello, Norbert," he said, using one of his large fingers to rub under the infant dragon's miniscule jaw.

"'Norbert?'" Harry asked.

"Well, 'e needs a name, don't 'e?" Hagrid replied. "An', according to this," he lifted the book again, "'E's a Norwegian Ridgeback."

"I've read about those in _Fantastick Beasts and Where to Find Them," _Hermione interrupted. "They're among the largest dragon breeds on Earth." Hagrid missed the veiled criticism.

"Hagrid," Harry asked, "where did you get the egg?"

"Oh?" Hagrid asked, clearly lost in the wonder of his new pet. "Oh, I won 'im off a fellow in the pub."

"Did you know him?" Daphne asked.

"Nah," Hagrid said. "'E kept 'is 'ood up the 'ole time. Seemed glad to be rid of 'im, now that I think about it . . ."

"Well, he was carrying an illegal dragon egg," Daphne noted. "He probably wanted to get rid of it before the Aurors caught up with him."

Hagrid, however, was distracted when 'Norbert' coughed fire onto his beard. The half-Giant quickly fanned his beard. "'E'll 'ave to be trained up a bit, of course," he said, as though he was talking about an unruly puppy. The little dragon coughed again, only letting out a few sparks this time. Harry almost thought it was amused at them.

Later, Harry, Hermione, and Daphne were trudging back up to the castle. "What is he thinking?" Hermione asked.

"My mum mentioned that Hagrid's always a dragon," Harry said. "I guess . . . he just couldn't resist the chance to finally own one."

"It's still really dangerous," Hermione insisted.

"Agreed," Daphne said. "My parents told me that it's impossible to really control dragons. They're the person . . . person-i-fin . . ."

"Personification," Hermione offered.

"Right," Daphne replied, smiling at her friend. "The personification of the power and chaos of the world itself."

". . . Do you think Hagrid's hut can handle the power and chaos of the world?" Harry asked.

His fiancé snorted. "Heck, no."

Hermione nodded in agreement, though her mind was filled with ideas.

* * *

><p>Over the next two weeks, the three would make it a habit to visit Hagrid whenever they could. The Groundskeeper was pleased to have them over; he needed all the help he could get. Norbert was growing fast. It was only the thirteenth day since his hatching, and already the winged creature looked big enough to be the offspring of Fang, Hagrid's slobbery pet boarhound.<p>

"Hagrid," Daphne said, "you can't keep him here much longer." She and Harry were attempting to keep the beast occupied as Hagrid prepared its meal of finely chopped, bloody meat. Hermione, meanwhile, was restacking the firewood Norbert had enthusiastically scattered all over the floor.

"Aw, come on, Daphne," Hagrid whined. "'E's just a baby. 'E'll learn to be'ave, you jus' wait an' see."

"Hagrid," Hermione said, replacing the last block of wood. "Maybe you should consider talking to Professor Dumbledore. Maybe he can . . . help," she offered, weakly.

Hagrid gave a non-commental grunt. Harry sighed and handed the rowdy dragon off to Hermione, who came over to give her friends a break from dealing with the no-longer-tiny terror. He opened his mouth to try to offer help, but, instead cried out "Malfoy!"

Everyone turned toward Harry, who was pointing toward the small, round window of the hut. "I just saw him," Harry insisted. "He was standing with his face against the glass. He must have run off . . ."

"Back towards the castle," Hermione completed.

They were all silent for a moment, just a moment. Then, Hagrid said, "You four 'ad best be off. You ain't supposed to be down 'ere this late."

"Are you sure, Hagrid," Harry asked. The half-Giant was just as kind and friendly as his mother had described him to be, if not more so. The thought that he was probably about to get in trouble was . . .

"Ah, I'll be all right," Hagrid insisted. "Come on, off with you, now." The enormous man gently herded the three out the door.

"If you need help, Hagrid," Harry said, "you can tell us. Right?" he said looking to the girls beside him.

"Of course," Hermione said. Daphne silently nodded, but without a trace of doubt or reluctance.

Hagrid's eye twitched, just a little. 'Don't you go worrying about me, none," he said. "You just get yourselves back up to the castle before someone sees you."

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><p>Once again, the three found themselves returning to the castle from Hagrid's hut with heavy thoughts on their minds. They wanted to run, but it had just stopped raining; the skies overhead were still rumbling and flashing, the ground was an uneven mess. Hermione and Daphne each fell once and need the other two to catch her and help her back up. Harry nearly walked out of his shoe twice.<p>

Finally, they made it back through the castle doors—just in time to meet a smirking Malfoy, and an unhappy looking Professor McGonagall.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Again, sorry this one was so short. Hopefully, the next one will be more interesting (you all probably know what it is already, anyway).<strong>


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: OK, hope the wait wasn't too long for you. I originally wanted to have the whole "incident" in the Dark Forest take place here, but there were things I wanted to cover in those chapter, and adding the "incident" would have made it too long. So, for what it's worth, here's a look at the fallout of the last chapter.**

**Guest: I kind of explained this in a previous chapter, but I'll do it again as a refresher. (Be warned, I'm mostly just summarizing Wikipeida here) hetaerae were a special class of Grecian "courtesans" (they were considered above mere prostitutes) whose purpose was to provide their "patrons" with both physical and intellectual pleasure. They learned to dance, to play music, and to discuss engage in intellectual arguments. One man explained it as, "We have_ hetaerae _for pleasure,_ pallakae _(mistresses)to care for our daily body's needs and _gynaekes _ (wives) to bear us legitimate children and to be faithful guardians of our households." Yeah, the Greeks didn't have a very high opinion of women, which I always found kind of odd with goddesses like Athena and Artemis. As I pointed out in _World Tree _the Greeks didn't embrace monogamy foe moral or romantic reasons; it was just to make things easier as far as responsibility towards one's lover and heirs. The Wikipedia article is way better than this little blurb. I highly recommend it.**

**Pazia28: Yeah, I really need to develop the backstory more. The thing is, I don't get the feeling that the Potters and Weasley's were in the same class (Mr. and Mrs. Weasley never have much to say about James and Lily's school days, Sirius and Remus don't talk about them, and Mr. Weasley didn't show up in Snape's memory, I don't think, and anyway, Bill's like seven years older than Harry, so they might have missed the Potters all together), and I don't think Lily's being in Slytherin would have come up much in conversation much (too distasteful). Snape being Draco's godfather . . . yeah, I have an idea about that, but I won't give it away here. You'll have to wait for it.**

**atmyer: Yeah, personally, I think Dumbledore pulled a few strings to keep the whole "illegal-dragon-egg-thing" a secret. Also, Malfoy mostly wanted to get "the golden trio" in trouble more than Hagrid.**

**wizmage: I don't know. I just read in one of Crossoverpairinlover's story's (I think it was _Restored Legacy) _that Rowling requested that people not write M-rated fanfics about her characters. Again, apologies, ma'am, but I believe you're in the wrong on this one.**

**Man of Constant Sorrow: Thank you! Yeah, I think that may be part of her issue, but I also see Hermione as a complicated character: both highly independent amongst her peers, but submissive to authority. At a risk of spoiling, Harry and Daphne are a good match for her because they can deal with the whole gamut of her emotional needs. **

**I hate Hermione: OK, well I don't suppose you could have made your feelings any clearer on this matter, but, as I indicated above, I like Hermione. Yes, she has flaws, so does everyone. Flaws are what make characters interesting (ever read Greek myths, flaws are what define those characters). Dealing with those flaws is going to be a part of the story. _She's staying. _If you don't like that, you can either muddle through it or leave. It's your choice either way. **

**Also, calling her a "buck tooth whore," really offends me. Not just the "whore" part, although I don't particularly like that either, I find it offensive that you're making a judgment based solely on one physical imperfection. Granted, we're all guilty of this (myself included), but it just comes off as really shallow.**

**Sorry if this offends you, but, well, it's just something that really bothers me. Sorry, but it does.**

**Pointer3109: Yeah, for all those of you wondering about Malfoy's decision to "nacre another Slytherin," that's going to be addressed in this chapter. Also, about Hermione . . . well, I won't give anything away, but it _will _come up, and I think it _is _going to color their relationship to certain degree. I won't say how, but it's going to happen.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 8: Consequences<strong>

"I _never _expected I'd have to have this discussion with you, Miss Granger," McGonagall said, continuing the lecture that had been running for at least half an hour. She never raised her voice, but, somehow, a calm McGonagall in a nightgown with rollers in her hair was even more intimidating than an angry McGonagall in class. Malfoy, of course, had not stopped smirking even once. Harry's desire to punch the ferret was growing by the second.

"It's not her fault, Professor," the green-eyed wizard offered. "We-"

"Quiet, Mr. Potter," the professor cut him off. Sighing, she said. "Well, this has gone on long enough, I suppose; fifty points will be deducted from each of your Houses," here, Malfoy's grin dropped. Harry smiled; evidently the prat hadn't expected the penalty to include their House losing points. "And the four of you will have detention tomorrow night."

"Excuse me, Professor," Malfoy asked, his smirk shrinking a little, "I thought you said, 'the _four _of you?"

"I'm afraid you heard correctly, Mr. Malfoy," the elderly Scottish woman said, turning to face him. "Honorable as you intentions were, you too were caught out of bed. You will join your classmates in detention."

Harry smirked. He wasn't quite ready to forgive the professor for what she did to Hermione, but he could still appreciate this.

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The next morning, the Gryffindors and Slytherins made an unpleasant discovery when they went to check on the big hourglasses that kept track of House Points. Not only was Gryffindor fifty points lower and Slytherin down one hundred-fifty, there was a large note which announced who was to blame. Not that it said they were "to blame," of course; that would have been childish. Instead, it read, _Due to poor choices, Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, and Daphne Greengrass of Slytherin along with Hermione Granger of Gryffindor have cost their Houses a great deal and will be serving out detentions as penalty. Let this stand as a warning that no one is above the rules._

Malfoy was giving Harry dirty glances all day, even though he had no reason to. For some reason, most likely involving the phrase "my father," Malfoy was given the least amount of flak for the current catastrophe. Oh, _some _of the Slytherins were giving him dirty looks, but Harry and Daphne were the ones who were deemed pariahs by the majority of the House. Luckily, it was Saturday, so they didn't have to deal with the others much, but they still had _plenty _of "disagreements" with their fellow snakes.

Theodore Nott was the absolute worst. They had just returned from Breakfast when Nott confronted them. "What are you two doing here?" he asked.

"We live here, Nott," Daphne said, crossing her arms. "Remember?"

"You think we're gonna let you stay here after you cost us a hundred and fifty points?" Nott asked.

"Malfoy was the one who told McGonagall," Harry tried to point out.

"Malfoy isn't a filthy half-blood or a blood traitor," Nott growled. Whipping out his wand, he threatened them, "why don't you two traitors clear out now, or I'll-"

"You'll do what, pray tell, Mr. Nott?" a cool, cold voice, said emerging from the shadows. Harry and Daphne wheeled around behind themselves, gasping in shock just as much as everyone else. "Is there anything else you wish to say?"

Nott gulped. "No, sir." Harry didn't blame the other boy for his reaction. Snape seemed taller than ever before; his face was chiseled from ice, and his eyes looked like a pair of bottomless black pits that swallowed up anything that dared look into them. Harry wasn't sure whether he took Daphne's hand or she took his.

"Very good," Snape answered. "You've already earned yourself detention for the next week, Mr. Nott. I should hate to have to increase that duration." Turning his head to address the rest of the House, he added, "House Sortings are _final. _Do _not_ let me hear any more on this matter, _understood?"_ Everyone nodded, some even dared to say, "Yes, sir," or "Yes, Professor." Nodding, Snape swirled his cloak and departed.

Harry was fairly certain the appearance of his favorite teacher was _not _a lucky coincidence; someone had called for help. The question was, who?

That was a question he wasn't able to ask Severus during the day. Since the three were going to spend the night in detention, they spent most of the day in the Library, working on homework.

"Hermione, what's wrong?" Harry asked, as he and Daphne approached the table she was sitting at. The bushy-haired witch was bent over the table looking at her open book. To most people, this would have looked like normal "Bookworm Hermione" behavior. But Harry was more observant than most, at least with his loved ones. Hermione wasn't really reading; her eyes were staring flatly at the page, and she looked as though she was trying to hold back tears. "Hermione?" he asked again, placing his hand on her shoulder.

"I'm fine," she said, shaking Harry's hand off.

"No, you're not," Daphne said, sitting down beside her. "Now, tell us what's wrong." When she got no response, Daphne sighed. "Hermione, we're your _friends. _Let us help you."

"It's Ron," Hermione whispered.

Daphne growled. "Weasley? What did that git do this time?"

"I just got back to the Commonroom from Breakfast," the brunette witch whimpered. "He walked up to me and told me I should leave. I was a no-good bookworm and a traitor to my House. The others agreed with him. He's right," she broke down. "I broke the rules; I cost Gryffindor fifty points; I'm no good; I-"

"Stop it!" Daphne yelled.

Reflexively, Hermione stopped crying and brought her finger up to her lips to _"Shush!" _her friend.

"Hermione," Harry said, this time wrapping his arms around her from behind, "You didn't do anything wrong." She turned to disagree, but Harry cut her off, "No. It's not. You're a good person; you broke the rules—risked getting in trouble—to help Hagrid. You're a perfect Gryffindor, and anyone who can't see that is blind."

Hermione's already red face turned even redder under her friend's praise. "Thank, Thank you, Harry," she said, then leaned up and kissed him on the cheek.

Daphne felt a twinge of . . . _something _in her at the sight of Hermione kissing Harry and then seeing the pair of them blush afterwards. _Am I . . . jealous? _she wondered. _After all the effort I'm putting into trying to bring them together, am I seriously jealous? _This new relationship might be harder than she thought. Pushing those thoughts aside, she took Hermione's hand and said, "Hermione, I'm sure not everyone feels the same way Ron does. There must be some who don't want to lose you. What about your roommates?"

Hermione _sniff _-ed. "Parvati followed me up our room when I went to grab my books, asking if I was really thinking about leaving. Lavender," Hermione smiled a little, "Lavender almost stopped me from leaving the Tower. Now that I think about it, a bunch of the older students had pulled Ron off to the side and were talking to him when I came down; I think they were mad at him."

Daphne smiled. "See Hermione, you have supporters in Gryffindor! You have friends."

"You'll always have friends," Harry said, squeezing just a little tighter.

NewSectionNewSectionNewSectionNewSectionNewSection NewSectionNewSection

"Come on, brats," Filch called as he led the four students across the Grounds that evening. The old man was carrying a lantern, and, for once, had left his cat behind somewhere in the  
>Castle. "Walking slowly will only waste your own time.<p>

"What are we doing out here?" Malfoy demanded. Harry didn't know whether to be annoyed or amused; Malfoy thought his punishment was undignified: surprise, surprise.

"Detention, you little snot!" Filch spat, leading them over to Hagrid's cabin.

"Are we having detention with Hagrid?" Harry asked. _That wouldn't be so bad._ Looking over at his snowy-haired Housemate, he smiled at little. _Maybe for Malfoy. _His smirk greweven b igger as he imagined theponce washing the food bowl of Fang, Hagrid's enormous boarhound.

"No," Filch replied. "You'll be having detention _in there," _and he pointed towards the Dark Forest.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes: Cliffhanger! Sorry, but, like I said up top, doing all this <em>and <em>what goes on in the Dark Forest would be way too long. So, I'm stopping here for now. Hopefully, I've given you a fun little mystery to chew on while you wait.**

**I hope Daphne's little mental debate was good. I'm trying to keep things realistic (OK, laugh it up; I'm going for realism in a fantasy story), and despite the fact that Daphne's all for the whole polygamy thing, it's going to have it's challenges. That's kind of par for all relationships, no matter how many people are involved. **

**Also, because I'm too excited about this to not point it out, did any of you like the juxtaposition between the Commonroom scenes? I know I shouldn't be pointing this out to you all, but _I _liked it a lot, and I just can't get over it. Oh, well.**


	10. Chapter 10

**AUTHOR'S NOTES: Wow, this may be the shortest time between posts I've ever had! I published chapter 9 of _Past Lives only _three days ago! I'm loving this Summer!**

**Gracealma: Thanks, seems like you understand Snape pretty well. Hermione . . . well, we'll find out, won't we? Though, honestly, I'm more concerned with Lily and the Grangers' reactions at this point . . . Run, Fores-I mean, Harry! Run!**

**Jamesk19: Considering that there's an old adage in art that goes "It's all been done before," I really appreciate that. Thank you! Hope you enjoy.**

**A W: First off, watch out that A&W doesn't go after you for copyright theft! All joking aside, yep, Harry will have wives, consorts, concubines, and hetaerae (or at least one of each) in this story. Of course, he'll be kind and loving to all of them, but the relationships between him and them, and them and each other, will vary. So will Harry's relationship with their parents (not looking forward to writing that, _shudder)._**

**Jo: I am honored. Seriously. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. I really hope I make this story worth it for you, and that I present a better version of Ginny than you've grown accustomed to (although, I don't like the fact that Rowling made her the canon wife for Harry. Ugh, even writing it makes me sick). I too like Harem/Multi stories, especially for Harry (you've probably already guessed that).**

**AnimagiPotter: Glad you approve.**

**Tostie: Thanks.**

**Man of Constant Sorrow: Thank you. I'm glad somewhat liked the idea as much as I did. "Realism" might be a dirty word for a fantasy story, but, to me, keeping personalities and reactions realistic in a fantastic work is what makes for good fantasy.**

**(Also, I don't know if I've told you this before, but you have one of the coolest names of anyone on this site).**

**CapoExecutor: Thanks for the suggestion. No promises about whether or not I'll use it, but I like that people are getting involved with the story. As for Malfoy, like I said in the last chapter, he probably made some threats involving his father to scare everyone else into leaving him alone and Harry, being not a particularly popular member of the House to being with, is an easy scapegoat. Daphne gets the same treatment because of association.**

**Besides, neither of those two (nor myself) are perfect.**

**Penny is Wise: Thanks.**

**DestroyerDRT: Thanks. Yeah, I'm getting a lot of grief for Ginny. Honestly, she's the one I have the least love for, I think, but I never really understood the vehement hatred the internet seems to have for her. Dumbledore Molly, and Ron bashing I can appreciate, but why do people make Ginny an evil little psycho? In this story and _World Tree, _Ginny is more victim than victimizer; she was brainwashed since birth into seeing herself and Harry as destined soulmates. She's just a pawn to the people around her. **

**Change of Faith: Here goes: You know how in _Deathly Hollows _(SPOILER ALERT) Snape's flashback shows him telling Lily she would be great in Slytherin . . . Well, in this universe, she did just that. The Hat saw that she had the ambition, pride, and cunning that Salazar wanted in his students even if wasn't a Pureblood. There isn't actually a rule against Muggle-borns being in Slytherins: they'd just a really rough time, as Lily undoubtedly did.**

**magitech: Sadly, Hermione's too mature to gloat, but _man _that would be funny, wouldn't it?**

**Zaralann: Thanks.**

**atmyer: Sorry. Glad you liked Filch, though. It seems to me that he gets the least screen-time in Fanfics of all the canon characters (aside from walk-ons like Professor Vector).**

**MMWillow13: Thanks! I'm glad I'm succeeding at this craziness!**

**ElementMaster16: Soon enough for you?**

**Dericof Diname: Thanks! I may take you up on that offer because of my own laziness! Glad to know I was right!**

**Crossoverpairnglover: Yeah, I felt the same way, hopefully this one makes up for the last one being so short! **

**ArchAngelGundum: Awesome name! Glad you approve! Hope you like this chapter, too.**

**flame55: Thanks a lot!**

**Dusk Ado ll: Yeah, this is point where Chessmaster Dumbledore makes more sense from a reader's perspective . . .**

**Wow, I don't think I've ever answered so many reviews in one chapter! Hopefully the length of the story makes up for it!**

**P.S.**

**FINAL COMMENT: I'm name-dropping an original character in this chapter! He's original, but some of you should be able to guess from his name who he's based on! _Heh, heh, _Let the guessing games begin!**

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><p><strong>The Dark Forest<strong>

"The Dark Forest?" Malfoy cried, looking for once like a child instead of a short business tycoon. "But it's forbidden, and there are . . ." A wolf howled from somewhere in the shadowed trees. _"Werewolves."_

"Oh, there's more than werewolves in there," Filch responded, not looking particularly comfortable being so close to the forbidden part of the grounds himself. At the sound of heavy footsteps, he turned to his left. "Ah, Hagrid. Ready, I presume?"

The half-Giant emerged from the Forest with Fang beside him. In his left hand, he carried a large lantern, and his right held an enormous crossbow. His eyes lacked their usual cheer. "Ah'm ready," was his gruff reply.

Filch nodded. "Then they're your's." With that, he passed his own lantern to Harry and turned back to the castle but couldn't resist a parting remark to the children. "See you in the morning."

"Come on," Hagrid said. "Best be off." Before any of his friends (or Malfoy) could get a chance to speak with him, he turned and began walking back into the Forest. The youngsters hurried to catch up with him.

* * *

><p>They walked in silence for about ten minutes, stepping over roots and rocks, a low fog on the ground. Harry looked around and, despite the cold and the darkness, wondered what the big deal was. The trees were spaced far enough apart that it seemed he could see in every direction, and he couldn't see anything at all. It was like the Dark Forest was just that, a dimly lit bunch of trees with nothing in them.<p>

"_Ahrooooo . . ."_

Daphne and Hermione grabbed Harry's arms. The young wizard swallowed and swung his head around. The wolf's cry seemed to come from every direction, but he couldn't see anything. He gripped the lantern tighter and sped up a little, moving a little closer to the vigilant Hagrid.

At length, they came to a stop at a small rise. The ground before them dipped down a little, and there, in the middle of the black and haunted ground was a puddle of molten silver. As they moved to inspect it, Daphne saw that it wasn't silver; it looked greyish, but as the light shifted, thin little rainbows appeared. As Hagrid dipped his fingers in the goo to examine it, she cried a little as she experienced a strange sense of revulsion. It seemed that the presence of something so beautiful in such a frightening place was somehow a crime against nature.

Hagrid straightened up and showed his gooy fingers to the group. "See this," he asked. "That's Unicorn blood, that is." Wiping his fingers off on his coat, he continued, "I found one—dead—a few weeks ago, with its throat tore out. This one's injured," he said. "Probably still alive, so we need to 'elp, if we can."

"What could do this to a Unicorn?" Hermione asked, looking down at the puddle.

"Werewolves?" Malfoy asked, looking around.

"Nah," Hagrid answered. "Werewolves ain't fast enough ta catch a Unicorn . . ." he trailed off for a moment, before returning to the task at hand. "Right, we'll go in two team."

"I want Fang," Malfoy insisted.

"All right," Hagrid said. "Just so's you know; 'e's a bloody coward." The huge boarhound whimpered a little, but didn't look particularly fierce. If anything, it looked like it wanted to say _"Sorry."_ "'Arry," Hagrid said, looking at the young wizard, "you and 'Ermione are with me. Daphne, you look af'er Fang and 'im," the half-Giant said. Nodding towards the blond ferret. "If you find the Unicorn, send up green sparks. If somethin' attacks you, send up red ones." None of the children responded to that comment. "All right," Hagrid declared. "Let's go."

Harry thought about arguing. He would rather have both Daphne and Hermione near him, but his fiancé squeezed his hand before taking his lantern and whispered, "don't worry." The two groups set off with the instructions to return to that spot by dawn.

* * *

><p>Now that they were alone, he looked up and saw that Hagrid seemed a little distracted as they searched for the injured beast. "Hagrid," he asked, "What's the matter?"<p>

". . . Norbert's gone," the half-Giant answered. "Dumbledore . . . 'e said the Ministry would find out soon'r 'r lat'r. So, 'e sent thah little guy off to Romania, to be wit' 'is own kind. Charlie Weasley came by to pick 'im. Nice seein' 'im again . . ." The enormous man _sniffle _-d a little.

"Oh, Hagrid," Hermione walked up and took the half-Giant's hand. "I'm certain professor Dumbledore knows what he's doing. Norbert will be all right, I'm sure of it."

"_Sniff, _thank's 'Ermione," Hagrid replied. "You're a good friend, you are."

"How'd Dumbledore find out about Norbert?" Harry asked.

"I imagine Profess'r McGonigal told 'im, after ole Malfoy told 'er," Hagrid replied, stopping to check some impressions on the ground that might or might not have been prints.

"She didn't mention Norbert when she was scolding us," Harry remarked, thinking back to the incident.

He didn't notice Hermione look away. Her face became hot, and she clentched her hands as she remembered what had happened _after _Filch had escorted Harry and Daphne back to the Slytherin rooms.

"_Thank you, Miss Granger," the Headmaster said. "You've done quite well to tell me of this matter. I shall see to it immediately."_

Hermione tried to tell herself she had done the right thing, but, seeing Hagrid like this now . . .

"HAGRID!" Harry yelled, pointing off to the right.

Hermione and Hagrid spun around and looked up where he was pointing; there were red sparks in the sky.

"STAY 'ERE!" Hagrid cried, raising his crossbow and charging off towards the sparks, where the sound of Fang's barks echoed.

Harry started to run after him, but Hermione grabbed his arm. "Harry, we have to stay here!"

"But, Daphne!" he cried.

"She's strong! Hagrid's going to her! If we run off, we'll only get in the way or get lost and create even more trouble."

Harry opened his mouth to object, when another howl echoed through the Forest. Hermione stiffened and almost let go of his hand. She re-clenched it, then let go, her eyes blinking wildly. For the first time since the incident with the Troll, Harry saw a look on Hermione's face most people believed was impossible: the look of someone who didn't know what to do.

_She thinks I'm mad at her, _he realized. Well, he was, but she was too concerned about her too much to care about being mad. The young wizard wrapped his arms around her, and Hermione instantly wrapped him in one of her most suffocating hugs. He didn't mind.

All too soon, however, they heard something rumble in the trees. Harry let go of her and drew his wand. Hermione was shivering a little, but drew her's as well. Harry was about to fire a stunner when Hagrid emerged from the shadows with the other group in tow.

"They're all right," Hagrid grumbled, looking uncharacteristically cross. Daphne, by contrast, was livid and glared at Malfoy, who was looking uncharacteristically dirty. Fang, despite his heavy jowls, actually looked amused.

"Malfoy, 'ere," Hagrid said, gesturing to the sulking wizard. "Thought 'e could sneak up on Daphne. She stunned 'im and sent up thah sparks before she got a good look at 'im."

"Serves him right for trying to scare a girl," the blond witch growled, her scowl intensifying.

Hagrid grunted but didn't respond to her comment. "Ah'm sorry, Harry, but I'll 'ave ta ask you ta look af'er this one fer me," he said, referring back to Malfoy. "'No offense to ya, girls, Ah just reckon 'e won't try it again wit' 'Arry, is all."

"All right," Harry said. He wasn't thrilled about it, but at least Daphne and Hermione would be safe with Hagrid.

"Be careful, Harry," she whispered.

"I will," Harry promised. Before going to join the prat, he stopped and hugged Daphne. "Nice job," he whispered.

"I wish Hagrid hadn't made me wake him up," she replied. Harry laughed, and she smiled a little. "I'll keep Hermione safe," she promised.

"Keep yourself safe, too, Daph," he whispered in her ear. Then, Harry let go and walked off into the woods with a cowardly dog on one side, and a blond ferret on the other . . .

* * *

><p>"When my father hears about this, he'll have that old fool, Dumbledore fired. This is <em>servants' <em>work!" Malfoy whined as he, Harry, and Fang wandered through the Forest.

"If I didn't know better, Malfoy," Harry said, having put up with the other boy's complaints for the past ten minutes, "I'd say you were scared."

"'Scared,' Potter?" Malfoy spat. He was about to say more, but was cut off when they heard a—

"_NEIGHHH—EIEIE!"_

"What . . . was that?" Harry asked. He'd heard the phrase "blood-curdling" before, but he'd never imagined that a single sound could invoke so much pain and terror. He felt . . . he felt as though his blood actually was cringing in revulsion. "Come on," the young wizard said, finding his nerve.

Malfoy didn't reply but followed after him, if for no other reason than to avoid being left alone. Together with Fang, they raced down the small hill. There, lying on the ground, was a beautiful, snowy body: a dead unicorn. And, hunched over it, was a dark figure, a perfect contrast to the dead creature. Harry knew that this black thing was what had slain the unicorn, although he had no idea what it was . . .

"_ow," _he whispered, too quiet for even Fang to hear it, as he reached up and touched his forehead. His scar felt like it was living coal burning into his skin.

Then, the thing that had slain the unicorn moved. Harry and Malfoy had made no sound, but, somehow it knew they were there. It raised its head, and the boys saw that the _thing _was a person, wearing a black cloak and hood. The shadows hid its eyes, the only part that was visible was its mouth.

The lips were stained with liquid silver.

"_Yaaaaaaa-ya-arrrrrgh" _the creature growled at the boys.

Malfoy screamed. The ferret turned and ran away, crying as loudly as he could. Fang began barking, but back up as the dark figure slowly began to glide away from the dead unicorn . . . and advanced on Harry.

Harry himself fell back on the ground as he tried to retreat. He knew he should send up red sparks, but he couldn't think strait. _A Vampire? Why is he attacking Unicorns? Liam said they couldn't drink Unicorn blood. And why is my scar burning? _Soon, the dark figure was standing over him, and Harry didn't know if he would die because of _it _or his own raging scar.

_clop-clop-clop-Clop-Clop-CLOP-CLOP-CLOP! RUSTLE!_

Suddenly, another figure flew out of the tree and landed between Harry and his attacker. The cloaked figure was forced to retreat to avoid being crushed under the new creature's landing. Harry's first thought was that it was another Unicorn, but it's coat was grey, and it seemed too bulky for the lithe, horned beasts. Whatever it was, it reared up on its hind legs and began kicking at the shadowy slayer.

The man in the hood made no sound but fled, gliding off into the shadows deeper in the Forest.

Harry's breath heaved. This was worse than the Troll; he hadn't even been able to call for help, much less defend himself. If the second creature hadn't arrived when it did . . .

"Are you all right, Mister Potter?" the creature said, turning to him.

Harry saw now that a man's torso grew out of the horse's body where its neck should have been. It was a muscular torso with equally developed arms growing out of it, het the head attached to it, although a bit brutish, reminded Harry of pictures of famous Greek wizards and philosophers he'd seen in his and his friend's books. Short, grey hair (although he looked rather young) and a short beard were both neatly combed, a smooth forehead, and dark, inquisitive eyes.

"I'm fine, thanks to you," he replied, getting up.

"It was nothing," the Centaur responded. "Dangerous things stalk the Forest these nights, Mister Potter. It is not good to travel alone."

Harry flushed. "I was with my friends . . ." he started.

"I saw," the Centaur said. "He fled."

"He wasn't my friend," Harry quickly replied. "My friends are Daphne and Hermione; they're with Hagrid, the Groundskeeper. Do you know him?"

The Centaur nodded. "Do you know where they are?"

"Somewhere in that direction, I believe," Harry said, pointing back the way he'd come. "We went in opposite directions, you see."

"Very well," the Centaur said and knelt down. "I will take you to them."

"You're going to _carry _me?" Harry asked. From what he'd heard from his mother and the other adults he knew, Centaurs did _not _just let other people ride on their backs.

"I can travel faster than you, and speed is of the essence," the Centaur said. "Leave the lantern; I have no need of it," he said, referring to the hunk of metal Malfoy had dropped when he ran. It was just as well; the light had gone out and Harry didn't know a spell to rekindle it. First-Years weren't taught how to conjure fire, for obvious reasons.

Harry swallowed and climbed on the creature's horse-back. He wrapped his arms around the man's torso as the Centaur rose. He began a swift gallop through the Forest, with Fang trailing behind.

* * *

><p>They traveled together in silence for a few moments before Harry dared to speak again. "What's your name, sir?"<p>

" . . . Firenze," he replied.

"_Firenze," sounds like "Friends," _Harry thought. He decided it suited the Centaur. "Thank you for saving me Firenze, but what was that?"

"The most terrible monster I have ever encountered," Firenze replied, slowing as he descended another hill.

"But what kind of creature was it?" Harry asked. "It couldn't have been a Vampire; my mother's friend is one, and he says they can't drink Unicorn blood. He said if they did, it could make them really sick, possibly kill them."

"That is true," Firenze replied. "Healing magic has an adverse effect upon Vampires, and Unicorn's blood has amazing powers of healing. No Vampire could stand it."

"'Healing powers?'" Harry asked. "I've never heard about that. In Potions and wands, we only use hairs of bits of the horn."

"That is because these things can be taken without killing the animal," Firenze said, stopping for a moment. "It is a terrible crime to slay a Unicorn, Mister Potter. The magic in its blood will keep you alive even if you are an inch from death, but at a terrible price. To slay a thing so pure, so noble . . . It would be a half-life: a cursed life. Your every moment would be agony."

"Who would want to live like that?" Harry whispered.

"Can you think of no one, Mister Potter," Firenze replied, twisting his man-body to look Harry in the eye.

"Voldemort?" Harry whispered. The man that had attacked him was . . . _Voldemort?_

Firenze nodded, then took off again.

They traveled for another five or ten minutes when they came upon a small clearing. Hagrid and the others were there . . . along with two other Centaurs.

"'Arry!" Hagrid called out, waving his arms. He and the girls ran to meet them . Once again, Malfoy tagged along to avoid being left alone, or (in this case) alone with two scowling Centaurs. "Thank God you're all right! An' thank you, Firenze," the half-Giant said as the pair came to a stop. Harry slid off the Centaur's back and was immediately enveloped in a combined smother-hug from his friends.

"It was nothing, Hagrid," Firenze replied, seeming not to notice the reunion at his side.

"_Donkey," _one of the other Centaurs, a black-haired fellow, spat.

"We will take our leave, now," said the other. He wasn't scowling like the black-haired one was, but he didn't look happy either. The two galloped off into the Forest.

"What was that abou—?" Hermione started to ask, but it dropped off as she looked up at the remaining Centaur. He was staring intensely at the sky.

"Mars is red, tonight," he whispered.

"So we've 'eard," Hagrid grumbled.

Firenze shook his head. "Even Centaurs have misread the stars before. The future guards its secrets closely." Turning to Harry, he added. "There are terrible things moving in the world, Mister Potter. Soon, even Hogwarts itself may not be safe. Be very careful." With that, he turned and galloped after the others.

"Ruddy Centaurs," Hagrid grumbled. "Can't talk about anything closer than the Moon with 'em. Still, they're good friends to 'ave, say's Aye."

With that, he led the four children (and one dog) back out of the Forest. Harry told them about what he seen, and what he spoken of with Firenze. "Do you think it's possible, Hagrid?" he asked. "Could Voldemort really be here, in the Dark Forest?"

"Nah," Hagrid replied. "Even in the worst of the Bad Times, 'e'd ne'er get this close ta 'Ogwarts." Still, the half-Giant held his crossbow close, and hurried them along out of the Forest, where he escorted them back to the Castle . . .

* * *

><p><strong>Wow, long chapter! <strong>**Can anyone guess who Liam's based off of? Honestly, if no one can, I'll be incredibly disappointed in you all. The part about Vampires being harmed by healing magic comes from DnD and it's ilk where healing spells used by clerics have a negative affect on the undead. I modified it for my own purposes. I won't say whether or not Crosses and such harm them, but this is in the same vein, I believe.**

**Funny story, when my Mom was reading me this chapter in _Sorcerer's Stone _(this was when I was young enough that my parents and I took turns reading books), I actually thought Firenze's name was "Friends." I thought it was good for a helpful character.**

**I'm sorry Malfoy didn't get to say or do anything at the end, but I couldn't think of anything. He can't support the Dark Lord publically, yet, especially not with three anti-Death Eaters around him in the Dark Forest. The ferret isn't the brightest candle on the chandelier, but he isn't _that _dim. **

**Where the sound effects good? And Hagrid's accursed accent (not looking forward to writing for the Delacours)? I have trouble figuring out how to use actual letters to describe what I hear in my mind. **

**Also, WARNING, in the next couple of weeks, I'm going out of town and won't have access to the internet. So, I _may _get one more chapter of this up, but, either way, you're all going to have to spend the first week of July without updates in this or _World Tree _or anything else I write. Go watch the fireworks and take heart knowing I'm suffering with you because I won't be able to read anything any of you are writing (now we're all depressed).**

**Finally, because I'm _SO _evil, here's a clue about what happens in the next chapter that you may or may not have to wait about 3 weeks for! Christmas Holidays begin!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Notes: OK, as those of you who read the latest chapter or _Past Lives _(Chapter 10) know, I'm going to stop answering every single response and only deal with those that I think merit a response here. To whit:**

**1. I know, I know. What Hermione is doing is really bad. THAT'S THE POINT. She is going to have to deal with the fall-out of this bad decision eventually, just give it time. I promise, it will be dealt with. Please, be patient.**

**2. Under the weight of powerful arguements (and how flipping tired I am of having to argue this) I will admit that making the Patils Muslims was a bad idea. I wanted to do something other people hadn't done before, instead, I have spent far to much time trying to defend this point, and honestly, I'm sick of it. I won't just change things out of nowhere (That would make no sense in the story itself, and I'm already going to have to retcon something else anyhow), but, I have an idea about how to resolve the issue, just please give me a chance.**

**3. Those of you who remember Chapter 7 will recall that I'm contradicting something I wrote in that section, that Lily had no male friends other than Remus and Severus. In hindsight, that was a bad move. This is the problem with publishing incomplete stories, so, I may or may not go back and change that. But, everyone, pretend I did not write it. **

**4. Those of you who couldn't guess who Liam is based on, I'll tell you in the end notes, but, if you haven't figured it out by then . . . I'm going to cry. Also, those of you who don't understand my screenname will get an explanation or sorts.**

**5. (Man, I was trying to _stop _writing these long notes), this chapter will have non-graphic sex in it, fully graphic in the Ficwad edition (when I finally publish the next seven chapters there; _man _I'm behind. _Grrrrrrrroan_). Those of you who have read the original challenge by Crossoverparinglover will realize this is where I"m finally addressing perhaps the most controversial aspect of that challenge.**

**Finally, on with the show!**

* * *

><p><strong>Happy Holidays<strong>

"Harry!" Hermione cried, through her arms around her friend and hugging him close.

Harry sucked in his breath, and let out a croak. "Hermione . . . can't breathe . . ."

The young witch let go of him and stepped back, her face bright red. She was opened her mouth to say something—likely an apology. Instead, her eyes lit up, and she let out a "Daphne!" and instantly reached out to embrace Harry's fiancé, a little more careful this time.

"Hello, Hermione," Daphne said, after taking a moment to recover from having been beaten in the contest of introductions.

"Hermione," a strong male voice asked, "aren't you going to introduce us?"

Hermione's scarlet hue returned. "Sorry!" she cried, spinning around and letting one of her arms unwind itself around Daphne, while the other slipped down to take the other girl's hand in her own. The now free hand grasped Harry's. "Harry, Daphne, I'd like you to meet my parents. Mum and Dad, these are my friends, Harry and Daphne."

"Hello, sir," Harry said, squeezing Hermione's hand a little as he looked up at the parents of his friend (and, if Daphne had her way, one day his hetaera). Mr. Granger had the same color eyes as his child and Harry could see the same intelligence in them . . . and a hint of the same mentality. He was a tall man, with broad shoulders and well-developed muscles, suggesting that, unlike Hermione, he as much of an athlete as he was an intellectual. The man had short, dark hair, and clean-shaven face with a strong jaw line. Combined with the eyes that were now studying Harry, it was an intimidating face.

"Hello," Mr. Granger—_Dr. _Granger, Harry recalled—said after a moment, extending his hand. Harry shook and tried not to let the man know he was squeezing a little too hard.

"Play nice, Dan," his wife said, rolling her eyes." Whereas Hermione got her eyes from her father, it was obvious she got the rest of her looks from her mother. The woman had the same bushy brown hair, the same soft face, and identical, full lips. Turning to Daphne, she extended her own hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you both. Hermione's told us _so _much about you."

_Not everything, I hope, _Daphne thought. Before leaving school, the young witch had had a discussion with her friend. Hermione had agreed that telling her parents that Harry and Hermione were engaged or about the Troll or the Dark Forest would all be Very Bad Ideas. Out loud, she said, "Only good things, I hope."

Mrs. Granger—_No, wait, she's a doctor, too, _Harry recalled—smirked a little. "She did mention that you could be extremely charming. Perhaps, 'warned' would have been more appropriate."

"Harry! Daphne! Who is it?" a young girl called from down the hall.

Harry sighed. "That's my sister, Daisy. She . . . has a very strong voice."

"She's also very impatient to meet Hermione," Daphne said, grimacing. Actually, she was downplaying it. "I think we should head to the living-room."

"Sounds good," Mr. Granger replied. He grabbed his and his wife's bags and was surprised to see Harry and Daphne were arguing with Hermione over who should carry hers, surprised because Hermione was trying to convince them they didn't need to.

"Mum says you're my guest and my friend, so I should take your bags," Harry insisted.

"And you're my friend, too," Daphne added.

Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but her mother cut her off. "Let them do it, Hermione. When they come to visit us, you can take their things."

Hermione frowned a little, but relented, allowing Harry to take her big (for an eleven-year-old) suitcase in both hands, while Daphne grabbed the smaller bag beside it in one hand, and wrapped her other arm around Hermione's. The two children then led the family into the house.

Mr. Granger was certain of two things when he entered the Potter family living-room: the family was loaded, and they really liked Christmas. From the ceiling hung mistletoe and strings of popcorn, and poinsettias clung to the walls. By an enormous fireplace, stood an equally enormous tree, decorated in gold and silver, and ornaments in every color of the rainbow and with an equally colorful pile of presents under it. The walls were dark, polished wood, and there were carved vines with leaves and berries at the edges. It looked like the lobby of a hotel, rather than a home.

Sitting in front of the tree were a pair of girls, one blond and one dark-haired, who seemed to be in the process of trying to determine how to break into their presents early. When the group entered the room, they turned around. They were obviously the siblings of Harry and Daphne, which meant the dark-haired one was the girl, Daisy, who had shouted down the hall.

The girl in question now stood up and ran over to them. Stopping in front of Hermione, she asked, "Are you Hermione?" When the girl nodded yes, the younger one looked her up and down before asking, "So, are you going to marry my brother, too?"

"Oh, dear," Mrs. Granger said, covering her mouth to hide her smile. Mr. Granger, by contrast, actually dropped the bags he held and, for one brief moment, contemplated murder.

Harry, red as Rudoph's nose (or his friend's faces for that matter) stammered. "This is my sister . . . Daisy . . . she's a bit of a romantic . . . and she has a big imagination."

"Indeed," Daphne said, shooting a venomous look at her beloved's kid sister, a look which said, _Didn't we all agree we _weren't _going to talk about marriage or concubines tonight?_

"Sorry," Daisy said, not sounding particularly apologetic. "But you're Hermione right?" she asked the bushy-haired girl, who nodded. Looking her up and down, Daisy continued, "Good, maybe now Harry can talk about something other than you and Daphne when I ask him about school." Totally ignoring her brother's obvious embarrassment, she went on. "What's it like? Are there dragons? Mum said, you can learn to make things fly First Year. Can you make things fly? Will you show me?"

The blond girl, meanwhile, came up beside her but said nothing. Daisy, however noticed her. "This is Astoria. She's _my _best friend!" the hyperactive Potter said, throwing her arms around the other girl.

"She's also _my _sister," Daphne added.

"Hello, Hermione," the girl in question said, blushing. "Daphne's told me a lot about you. I'm pleased to meet you."

All three of the Grangers' hearts nearly broke. She was _so _sweet. "I'm pleased to meet you, too, Astoria," Hermione said, extending her hand and awkwardly shaking with the blond girl (Daisy had yet to let go of her poor friend).

"Good evening, Miss Granger," a smooth voice said from beside them. Mr. and Mrs. Granger jumped a little and turned. Walking towards them was . . . a wizard. Up until then, Mr. Granger had been a little . . . disappointed for want of a better term. Harry and Daphne didn't look any different than any other eleven-year-olds (perhaps a little older, but Hermione was . . . developing rather early, too, and they were assured this was normal for magical children). The house was big but didn't look particularly unusual.

The man approaching them, however, was most certainly a wizard, dressed in all black with a flowing cloak. The man's skin was extremely pale and his hair and eyes were jet black.

"Professor Snape!" Hermione cried. "What are you doing here?"

"Disappointed, Miss Granger?" the man asked. When the poor girl started sputtering in panic, she smiled and said, "Lady Potter and I have been friends almost since Harry was born," He couldn't say they had been friends since childhood, not since Fifth Year. "I am always present for the Holidays." Turning to the two new adults, he asked, "Miss Granger's parents, I presume?"

"Dan and Emma," Mr. Granger said, offering his hand.

"Professor Severus Snape, at your service," the teacher replied in his rich, smooth voice. "I am one of your daughter's teachers at Hogwarts."

"Yes, Hermione's described you," Mrs. Granger said. "You teach Potions, which is the magical equivalent of chemistry."

Professor Snape raised his eyebrow. "A very accurate description, yes. I'm happy to see I made an impression on her, hopefully a positive one."

"She spoke very highly of you in her letters," Mr. Granger remarked. Which was really something, since the only other professors mentioned were McGonagall and Dumbledore, and then only sparingly. Mostly, the girl talked about Harry and Daphne.

"I am pleased to hear that," Snape said, nodding slightly. "Almost all the guests are here, so, if you would like to join us in the Dining room . . ."

"What about our things?" Miss Granger asked.

"You can leave them here," Professor Snape remarked. "I promise we won't steal them."

Satisfied, the group left their bags in one corner and followed the professor down the hall and into the Dining room.

Inside was a couple who were obviously Daphne and Astoria's parents. The man had well groomed blond hair and wore classical-looking robes. His face bore a small smile and his eyes were relaxed. Beside him stood a tall, elegant woman with golden hair and the same violet eyes as Daphne. She was smiling, but her eyes were twinkling like the glass she held in her hand. She turned, and her smiled widened.

Still, it was her husband who spoke first, setting his own glass down, he set his own glass down and moved to the newcomers. "Good evening," he said. "I am Cyrus Greengrass, Daphne and Astoria's father, and this," he said, taking the woman's hand, "is my wife, Aphrodite."

"A pleasure to meet you," the woman said. "Are you the young lady my daughter is so taken with?" she asked Hermione, who recognized the look of mischief in her eyes.

"It seems Hermione made an impression on everyone," Mr. Granger noted. His wife reached over and squeezed his wrist just a little, causing him to sigh. He knew he was being unreasonable, but the way everyone was so impressed by his daughter sent his protective instincts into overdrive.

Hermione's mother then smiled widely at everyone. "Hello, everyone, we're Hermione's parents, Dan and Emma."

"What a pleasure to meet you!" a third voice called from beside them. Everyone turned as Lily Potter came in, carrying a large, steaming roast. The Grangers took a step back and gasped when they saw she wasn't actually carrying the plate. She was holding a wand under it and _levitating _the large, metal tray and the roast with it.

"Holy Cricket!" Mrs. Granger cried.

"First time seeing magic?" Mrs. Greengrass asked, smiling a little.

"First time since Hermione . . ." The woman trailed off, and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief that her mother hadn't mentioned what the three of them referred to only as "The Noodle Incident."

"Liam and Conner should be here any minute," Lily said, as she set the roast down in the middle of the table. "So, you kids better wash up." She was looking specifically at Daisy as she said this.

"All right/Yes, Ma'am," the five children chorused, and immediately headed off to the sink.

Walking around the table, Lily introduced herself, "Hello, I'm Lily Potter, Harry and Daisy's mother."

"Pleasure to meet you," Emma replied, shaking her hand.

"Likewise," Dan added.

"Hermione mentioned that you're . . ." Emma waved her hand, trying to remember the phrase.

"Like her?" Lily offered. "Yes, I am the first generation of my family to be born with magic. Severus here," she gestured to her friend, "was actually the one who explained it to me—we grew up together, you see."

_Ding-dong!_

"That must be them!" Lily exclaimed. "Pardon me," she said, before walking off towards the front door. The Grangers watched her go, then noticed the looks of their fellow guests. The Greengrasses were smirking to themselves, as though they knew something no one else did. Snape, meanwhile, was looking after Lily . . . the same way a man looks out to the sea when it has swallowed up the ship his love was on.

The Grangers looked at one another. There was definitely some drama at play here.

Lily returned with the last of the guests. One was a tall, broad-shouldered man, dressed in black pants and wearing a black coat. The only color was his shirt, a garnet colored garment that reminded Mr. Granger more of blood than Christmas. He had a large forehead and dark eyes which were set off by his sallow complexion. The man's hair was the strangest, thing about him, however, dark brown and gelled into upward spikes, in the front. "Good evening, all," the man said in an American accent.

"This is Liam Riley and his son, Connor," Lily said. "Liam, Connor, these are the Grangers. Their daughter, Hermione, is a friend of Harry and Daphne."

"Nice to meet you. Say hello, Connor," Liam said, looking down to his side. Between him and Lily stood a dark-haired boy approximately Daisy and Astoria's age. The boy held both adults' hands, which is probably the only reason he hadn't disappeared behind his father's leg.

"Hi," he said, looking as though it pained him to say it.

"He . . . doesn't like strangers," Liam explained.

Just then, the children returned. "Connor!" Daisy cried, running towards him. Connor let go of Liam and Lily's hands and embraced her. "Happy Christmas, Connor!" Daisy exclaimed again.

"Merry Christmas, Daisy," he whispered back, smiling more easily now. The other kids walked up and Daisy happily introduced Connor to Hermione. Lily and Liam looked on, smiling.

The now complete party sat down together for dinner. Lily began carving the roast, passing one undercooked-looking piece to Liam.

"Thank you, Lily," he said, eagerly cutting into the bright red meat while ignoring the vegetables and rolls the others were loading their plates with.

"That can't be healthy," Mr. Granger remarked.

Liam looked up at him and remarked. "I get along fine like this."

"Nonsense," Mrs. Granger interjected. "You look half dead! You should think about the example you're setting for your son."

"Liam sets a perfect example for Connor!" Lily interrupted. The other adults turned to her. Hermione, meanwhile, looked down at the table to cover her red face. _Can't you let it be? _she thought. This was not the right time or place to critique someone else's eating habits. Her parents seemed to have forgotten she was there . . . along with her _friends. _

A pair of friends who reached under the table and took her hands in their own, squeezing gently.

While this was going on, Lily was continuing to stand up for her friend. "Liam is a brave and noble man. He has helped countless people and would do anything for his friends."

"Lily," Liam interrupted, "you don't—"

"Yes, I do!" she snapped at him. "You're . . . you're a hero, Liam. You've done good, a lot of good, and you're a wonderful father." Her voiced softened, as she stared into his eyes. "You've suffered and sacrificed so much . . . let someone else stand up for you for a change . . ."

After a moment of silence that rendered the Grangers present _very _uncomfortable. Severus cleared his throat. "Liam's diet is not as detrimental to his health as it would be to any of us, due to his . . . condition."

"'Condition?'" Mr. Grasnger asked. "What kind of condition?" Although they were only dentists, the Grangers were still medical professionals and had a certain amount of general knowledge. Neither had ever heard of a condition that made a diet consisting solely of bloody meat desirable.

"I'm a vampire," the man in question said.

" A vam . . ." Mrs. Granger started.

"You're serious?" Mr. Granger asked, his eyes flitting to examine the others present. Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass were examining the situation curiously; Professor Snape was unreadable, and Lily was . . . apologetic?

"It's true. Liam is a vampire. We also have a good friend who is a werewolf, but he won't stop by until tomorrow, I'm afraid."

The Grangers looked at each other, trying to process this. Discovering Hermione was a witch—that magic was _real—_that had been hard enough to believe, but to learn that they were eating Christmas Dinner with a _vampire _was . . .

"You don't have any fangs," Hermione said. Everyone turned to her. The young witch blushed a little, but continued. "I'm sorry, but I've heard vampires have fangs, and you don't . . ."

"I do," Liam said. "I just . . . hide them, sort of, most of the time. I wouldn't be able to interact with people or hide in the normal world if I couldn't . . ."

"Oh," the witch replied. "May I see them, please?"

"Hermione . . ." Mrs. Granger started, although she had no idea what she was scolding her daughter about.

"It's all right," Liam interrupted again. Everyone turned to him. The dark-haired man sighed and then . . . _changed. _Liam opened his mouth and the Grangers gasped as his canines lengthened into wicked curves. Not only that, all the teeth between them became ugly razors. The man's eyes turned yellow beneath a brow ridge that extended itself like some kind of primordial beastman's, fixed into a fierce scowl. _"Rrrgh." _He let out a small growl, like a lion . . .

"Oh, my . . ." Mrs. Granger let out covering her mouth with her hand.

"You really are . . ." he husband whispered.

"Wow," Hermione whispered.

"It's hard to pull off when you're younger," Liam remarked, shifting back to his human features. "I've heard that it actually becomes more challenging to keep your human face when you get older."

"How old are you?" Hermione asked, before she could stop herself.

Liam shrugged, "A little less than 247, young for a vampire."

"You're almost two-and-a-half centuries old, and that's young?" Mr. Granger asked.

". . . I suppose you really _are _immortal?" Mrs. Granger asked.

"More or less."

"Is Connor a vampire, too?" Hermione asked, looking the brown-haired boy over. He didn't look much like a vampire; in fact, unlike his father, Connor had a slight tan.

"No," Connor said, shaking his head. "I'm half."

"You mean your mother is human?" Daphne's father asked, butting in. The others turned to him, and he winced (Daphne knew from past experience this meant that her mother had kicked his under the table). "Sorry, but Daphne and Astoria never mentioned this before . . . We always assumed you were adopted . . . I've only heard stories of dhampirs, human/vampire children . . . I wasn't sure it could really happen."

"Yeah," Connor said. "Mom was human."

The adults and Hermione stared at him, causing the boy to stare sullenly at his plate. Liam, eventually came to his son's aid. "There were . . . complications during Connor's birth."

"That's one way of putting it," Lily muttered, too low for most of them to hear. "Complications" was a nice name for a team of psychotic vampire hunters _and_ a cult of fanatical vampires . . .

". . . So . . ." Mrs. Greanger started, trying to brighten up the conversation (or at least make it less dark). "What is it you do, Mr. Riley?"

"I'm a private investigator," Liam replied, blinking.

"Oh, what's that like?" she asked.

". . . Interesting," the vampire replied.

Lily and Connor snorted simultaneously.

_Later_

"C'mon, you two!" Daisy shouted at her brother and new friend. "Kiss already!"

"Daisy, they don't have to kiss each other if they don't want to," Lily tried to convince her daughter (you'd think by now she'd know better).

"They're standing under the mistletoe, aren't they?" she asked.

"Daisy," Hermione tried, blushing.

_"Aren't _you?" the girl asked again.

"yes," she said, quietly. She and Harry were in fact standing under a sprig of mistletoe.

"Then kiss already," the girl repeated.

Hermione opened her mouth to protest further, but was cut off by a warm, soft sensation on her cheek. She spun around and stared at Harry, whose face was as red as his mother's hair, but he was also smiling, ever so slightly.

"Good job, Harry," Liam said from the sidelines. The vampire was grinning. Hermione's mother looked amused while her father seemed like he was trying to look amused. Daphne's parents, by contrast, were sharing the same look of mischief that their daughter so often wore.

"Your turn, Hermione," Daphne said.

"What?" the frazzled young witch asked.

"Kiss his cheek. Fair's fair," Daphne said, in a tone that would allow no argument.

Hermione looked at Harry, blushing even more that before. Harry shuffled uncomfortably. "You don't have to Hermione, I'll just step over here . . ."

Harry was about to step away when Hermione took his hand and whispered, "It's all right, Harry." Then, she leaned forward and kissed his cheek.

"All right, I think that's enough," Lily said, shifting a little against the wall." _Ah,young love, _she thought to herself. Harry had written to her shortly after the "incident" at Halloween, panicking at Daphne's plan to make the other girl his hetaera. Lady Potter hand intended to sit down and speak with her son on the matter, but Daisy had monopolized him until Astoria came over, and by then Lily was busy cooking dinner. Now, it looked like Christmas would be a little more serious than usual for Harry.

On the other hand, this had given her a chance to observe Harry and Hermione's interactions on their own, and it looked like . . .

"Mum, look!" Daisy cried, pointing up.

Lily's eyes went wide. _Oh, dear, _she thought looking up. She was standing under another sprig of mistletoe and beside her was . . .

"Oh," Liam said, looking up as well. ". . . I can move,"

"You're supposed to kiss each other!" Daisy protested.

Lily sighed. Arguing with a child about Christmas traditions reminded her of the story of Sisyphus. After death, he was condemned to push a rock up a hill, but every day, the rock rolled back down and he would have to go after it. "All right," she said. She leaned forward and kissed the vampire's cold cheek. She was about to pull away when Liam angled his face and kissed her very close to her mouth.

Drawing back, she stared at him wide-eyed. His eyes were locked onto hers, and he swallowed a little. Lily's heart rate instantly tripled; it was the same look James had had on his face after he'd kissed her for the first time . . .

_Later_

The rest of the evening had gone off well enough, Mrs. Granger reflected as she lay down in bed with her husband. There'd been singing, games, and a few more incidents under the mistletoe. Actually, there had been _a lot _more events involving mistletoe: herself and her husband, the Greengrasses, Connor and Daisy (which seemed to actually bring a smile to the boy's face), Daphne and Harry, Daphne and Hermione (who'd blushed even worse than she had with Harry, poor girl), Daisy and Astoria (which pleased Daisy perhaps a little too much), another incident with Harry and Hermione (which did not amuse her husband), and one moment where Liam and Professor Snape found themselves under the "plant of doom" (the two had stared at each other for a moment before stiffly pecking one another's cheek and spending the rest of the night avoiding each other).

As she smiled at _that _particular memory, Dan broke the silence. "I'm not sure I like him."

"What?" Emma asked, then realized who he was talking about. "Harry?" When Dan grunted in reply, she sighed. "Dan, he's just a friend—"

"Could've fooled me."

"They're still only children."

"I kissed you for the first time when we were twelve," he reminded her.

"Well . . . we weren't very serious then . . ." she trailed off.

"And we had sex when we were fourteen—"

"All right, we were very impatient," the woman conceded. "That doesn't mean Hermione will be. Besides, why does it matter? Harry seems like a nice boy, and Hermione's only ever praised him in her letters."

"He's too close to that Daphne girl," her husband muttered (or perhaps accused). "He's acting like some kind of player—"

"Dan, not every child is quite as impatient or reckless as we were," Emma tried again. "Besides, let's face it; you'd find a million different reasons to dislike Harry regardless of having met the boy. No father likes to deal with the fact that his daughter is growing up and that some _boy _might be replacing him as her favorite male. I know my father didn't." She smiled at the memory.

Dan shivered a little, probably remembering the man as well. "You're wearing your cross, right?"

"Yes, dear," she sighed. "Although I don't think it's necessary. Mr. Riley was a perfect gentleman—"

_"Hrruh," _Dan grunted again. "Doesn't hurt, does it?" he asked.

Emma sighed, but let the matter go. "No, I suppose it doesn't." At least she had convinced him to leave the garlic cloves he'd swiped from the kitchen in front of the door instead of stuffing them in his shirt pocket as he'd wanted to.

_Malfoy Manor _

_"Oh, YES! Give it to me, Slut! Give it—OH, YEEEESSSSS!" _Narcissa Malfoy cried. The platinum blond was on her back on large bed in a special dungeon in Malfoy Manor.

"Yes, Mistress . . . yes, yes . . . _aaaaah!" _whimpered her partner.

Both women lay panting for a moment, before Narcissa finally crawled up to her partner. Unlike her, this woman-_girl, _really, she was only ninetten, and a _Muggle-_wore no wedding ring; her only article was a ribbon of black silk around her neck with the Malfoy family crest in silver.

Bending down, Narcissa lightly kissed her forehead. "Very good, Rebecca," she said. "That was definitely one of the best you ever gave me."

"Thank you, Mistress," the girl answered. "Just . . . doing . . . my . . . best . . . to . . ." she stopped. Narcissa sighed and lay down, wrapping an arm around the girl, and another around the one on her _other _side.

Draco lay tucked in bed asleep in the upper rooms. It had been wonderful to see him, of course. Narcissa had practically smothered him when he'd walked in through the front door. They had eaten together and talked about what his first semester at Hogwarts had been like. Most of this was things that he had already covered in his letters, but it was so much better hearing them from Draco himself. He was, naturally, performing marvelously, he assured her, both in class and out. On one hand, this pleased her; her son was coming into his own, and what mother wouldn't be pleased at that? Still, she couldn't help but feel a little hurt; her son didn't need her as much as he used to.

Neither, it seemed did his father.

Narcissa sighed again, looking around the room. The bed was large enough for seven or eight people, though it had yet to reach beyond half a dozen occupants. Rebecca the redhead lay on the right edge with Narcissa next to her. The girl on her other side, Sally, was a blond, though her hair was brighter than the Malfoy family's snow-white crowns. She wasn't quite so well-endowed as Rebecca (high C's), but she still had a very nice chest (low-to-mid C's, just like Narcissa herself). Lying beside her were two more women, Claire and Emily. Claire was also blond, but a different shade than Sally, and had the largest bosom (natural D's) and wide hips. Emily was of Indian descent and much smaller (only B's) but had the firmest, sweetest butt. Like Rebecca, all three wore black silk with the Malfoy crest around their necks.

Emily and Claire lay asleep in each other's arms, having already served her pleasure. For that was their purpose: to keep her happy when her husband was away. Luscious worked long hours both at the Ministry and outside it (in politics, what happens outside the office is often more important that what happens in it), but his wife had _such _a high libido. So, he'd acquired these four pretty little Muggle girls to keep her company. They were concubines, these four, carefully groomed over a number of years to be the perfect pets. Narcissa was bisexual, and her husband didn't mind allowing her to enjoy herself with females, especially females they owned. He'd even joined her, occasionally.

Still, she missed him. It was Christmas Eve, and although they weren't Christians (like a number of Purebloods, the Malfoy's worshiped the spirits of their noble, magical ancestors), he should have gotten home early. Instead, he was out currying favor with a bunch of mindless political chumps who couldn't recognize good policy unless it came with enough drinks to give a dragon a hangover.

She turned to her right, feeling a hand on her arm. It was Sally, rubbing up and down. There was a small smile on her face, as though she was saying _It will be all right. _

Narcissa frowned a little, then reached over Rebecca to her wand and summoned a box to her hands, opening it, she removed a favorite toy. "I do not need your pity," she said, preparing herself. Seeing it, Sally moaned a little and spread her legs. Narcissa knelt between them. "You're ready for this, aren't you, Cunt?" she asked, addressing the girl by her nickname. They all had their own nicknames, all insults (Rebecca was Slut, Claire was Whore, and Emily was Bitch), but Narcissa never called any of them by another's name, and Sally moaned a little at her mistress' question.

Grinning, Narcissa spent the next two hours playing with her pet until they both collapsed into sleep. Narcissa did not want pity from her pets, and falling into the sweet oblivion of total sexual satisfaction alongside them was better than laying awake and missing her husband

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes: Angel! Liam is based on Angel! I even considered making his surname "St. Angel," but gave that up becuase it sounded a little dumb (and REALLY condicending). Let me just say this right now: NO! The Buffyverse does not exist in this story! Liam is not under a curse that will turn him evil if he knows true happiness. (I honestly never liked the "soulless vampire" thing outside of how it tortured Angel and made him a great character). I don't know how much of either show I'm going to include in this, but Angel Investigations (or Riley Investigations or whatever) will make an appearanc, later on. . . (Wolfram Hart is harder to pull off, but not impossible). Just don't ask for some specific breed of demon cause THE LOVECRAFT REJECTS AREN'T HERE! (This may, unfortunately, forbid me from using Lorne, but I may be able to work around it).<strong>

**Also, sorry if my description of Liam's vampire face" was too vague. You should be able to find an image in a few seconds on Google or Bing or wherever. Just type: Angel "vampire face" or Angel vampire or something.**

**Sorry that this was mostly fluff. The next chapter should have more "action," for want of a better term. **

**Did anyone like the bit about "Pureblood Ancestor Worship?" It makes sense to me, given how obsessed with bloodlines they are that _some _Purebloods would go in for it. Free trivia: Hemmler, Hitler's righthand-man actually tried to promote a cult centered around the ancient Germanic witches and wisewomen, at least, that's what part of a documentary on the History Channel said. (The Furher wasn't pleased by this, but couldn't do anything to stop it, really). And, sense the Death Eaters basically _are _magical Nazis . . .**

**Sadly, though, most Nazis _were _Christians. I have the feeling that there will be plenty of Death Eaters who are, too.**

**Other Purebloods, like the Greengrasses, well . . . you'll notice I didn't mention _their _beliefs in this chapter; they just came to the party. What are _they . . .? _(I already know the answer-all of you go "Duh"-I just want to get you thinking.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note: **Hey! Guess who's back! Sorry it's been so long. Thanks to all my new fans! Seeing how many people are intrigued by my work never fails to surprise me. I'm grateful to you all.

To all of you who are still wondering when the whole "Hermione Thing" is going to work itself out: relatively soon. Wait and see. It will take a few more chapters, but I promise it _will _happen. Please continue to be patient. I want this to come as a nasty shock for her and her friends, which means it has to go on for a little longer. (Sometimes I worry about how sadistic I am).

* * *

><p><strong>Nocturnal Discoveries<strong>

"What is it?" Hermione asked, eying the object Harry was examining in his hands. It looked like silken blanket, dark red with strange designs sown into it. The object had arrived in the morning mail, along with a note requesting it be opened _"in private." _

"I think it's a Cloak of Invisibility," Daphne said. "I've heard of them, but never seen one before; they're very difficult to make and don't last very long, so there aren't very many of them around."

"So this one probably doesn't work anymore?" the brunette asked. "The note says it was your father's, and it's been in . . . whoever's possession for ten years, at least."

"My Mum said Dad used to have an Invisibility Cloak that was centuries old," Harry said, staring into the fabric. "It was some kind of family heirloom; no one knew where it came from or how it still worked, but it did." The young wizard sighed as he continued to feel the cloak; he thought he could feel his father through it. "Maybe, I should try it on?" he mused.

"You're going to put on a cloak given to you by someone you don't know?" Daphne asked. "Harry, aren't you the one who usually calls _me _reckless?"

"I'm certain it's all right," Hermione said, causing the others to turn to her. "I mean . . . wouldn't the school's wards have stopped it if it was anything really dangerous?"

"I guess," Harry said, not really sure how the school's magical defenses worked.

". . . It makes sense, I suppose," Daphne admitted, although she was secretly feeling the solid wall behind her while screaming in her mind, _Is this a dream? What in Merlin's name is going on here? _ _How am _I _the cautious one?_

"Anyway, I think I know how to use it," Harry said. The others looked at him. "We know Voldemort's somewhere on the Grounds, and we know that there's a Philosopher's Stone hidden beneath the trap door in the third floor corridor . . ."

"Harry . . ." Hermione asked. "What are you suggesting?"

"Surveillance," he answered. "I don't feel safe letting Voldemort do whatever he wants near something that valuable."

"The Stone's protected," the Gryffindor witch pointed out.

"But we're talking about one of the most powerful Dark wizards of all time," Daphne mused. "I doubt a giant, three-headed dog would really impress him very much."

"But, what can Harry do?" Hermione asked.

"I can watch the door," Harry pointed out. "I don't expect I can win a real fight, but . . . some weird things have been going on this year. The Troll getting in, my broom getting jinxed,"—that was the only conclusion anyone had been able to come up with regarding Harry's strange experience during Quidditch—"Someone in the school is responsible for those, and I want to find out who it is and if they want the Stone."

"You think Voldemort might have an agent inside the school?" Hermione asked.

"Maybe," Harry shrugged. "Anyway, it would make me feel better to have a look around . . ."

* * *

><p>One Week later, Harry was starting to think his grand plan to catch the troublemaker in the act was going bust. An older person might have known that the odds of seeing anything were slim to none, but, while Magicals developed faster than Muggles physically and emotionally, Harry was still only eleven years old and only had and eleven-year-old's experiences to work with. As such, he had spent a number of hours each night for the past seven days wandering about the hallways (he had very quickly grown bored with simply watching Fluffy's door) under his father's Cloak trying to find evidence of someone working some manner of mischief.<p>

It was at the point where if nothing happened in the next night or two, Harry was going to throw this idea in the can and go back to the drawing board; his fiancé and best friend were already urging him to do so, anyway.

Then it happened. Harry saw a figure creep through the corridors, a small one (though bigger than Professor Flitwick), probably a student. Whoever it was had a cloak pulled up around their face, so Harry couldn't see who it was. For a moment, he debated following the person: the figure was headed away from the corridor, and he somehow doubted that Voldemort would shrink himself down to sneak into the castle. Ultimately, Harry's own curiosity got the better of him and he followed the cloaked figure down the hall.

It was a good thing he had decided so quickly; he only just managed to catch sight of the mystery person disappearing into one of the classrooms. Harry hurried after . . . only to mentally curse himself when he realized that he had forgotten something incredibly important: a Cloak of Invisibility does not stop people from noticing when doors swing open . . . apparently on their own.

"Who's there?" the figure asked, whipping out her—the voice was definitely a girl's—wand and pointing it in the direction of the door.

Harry hesitated for a moment. On one hand, he could use the disarming spell Severus had taught him—having an experienced duelist as an adopted uncle had a lot of perks—but that seemed like the wrong foot to start off on. Instead, he pulled off the Cloak (but kept his wand hidden in his hand). "Sorry," he said. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Potter?" the girl asked, lowering her wand. "What are you doing here?"

"Tracey?" Harry asked. The girl pulled down her hood, and Harry saw it was indeed Tracey Davis, another First-Year Slytherin. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

Tracey fiddled with her wand. Standing a little shorter than Hermione or Daphne, she was a brunette, but darker than Hermione, and (unlike his friend's long, bushy mane), her hair was strait, and was cut to chin-length. She had dark brown eyes that were trying not to look at Harry, and her pale cheeks darkened. "I'm waiting for someone," she said. "It doesn't matter. Why did you follow me?"

"I—"Harry started, but stopped when the sound of footsteps began to approach the door.

"Tracey?" a new voice asked. "Are you here—_heh!" _The newcomer gasped as she stepped into the room and saw Harry. "Who are you?" she asked. "What are you doing here?"

"Susan Bones?" Harry asked. It was indeed the heir of the Bones family. Harry hadn't had much contact with her, but he had seen her in the halls and classrooms plenty of times over the past few months. Susan was actually easy to recognize; she had strawberry-blond hair and (although all wizards and witches started to develop faster than their Muggle counterparts) her hips and bust were larger than most of her year-mates'.

"Harry Potter?" she asked. "Why are you here?" she turned to Tracey. "Did you—?"

"No!" Tracey interjected. 'I had no idea . . . What are you doing here, Potter?" she asked, turning back to Harry.

Harry shrugged. "I was looking for suspicious people," he answered. "A lot of weird stuff's happened this year: the Troll getting in, my broom going crazy at the Quidditch match, the unicorns dying in the Forest," Malfoy had complained about being made to chase after something that could kill unicorns, so the whole school knew about that, "and I want to know who or what's doing it."

"And, you expect to find it by hiding in an Invisibility Cloak and wandering the corridors late at night?" Tracey responded, her arms crossed and one eyebrow raised.

Harry blushed. "I was about to give up when I saw you," he replied.

"What would you have done?" Susan asked. "Even the teachers don't know how to deal with whatever's in the Forest, and you're just a First Year!"

Harry blushed. _Why do girls have to be so smart? _"I know. I'm not planning to fight it."

"Then what _were _you planning to do, Potter?" Tracey inquired.

". . . I don't know; spy on them," Harry said. Tracey snorted, and Susan . . . tried to pick her jaw off the floor. "Look, I know it's not the best idea," he said, "but I can't just sit back and let whoever this is keep messing with us like this! People could get really hurt if someone doesn't do something. My mother taught me that if you have the power to help others you have the responsibility to, and with this Cloak I _can _do something!" Few who knew her would have guessed Lily was a Marvel Comics fan, but Spider-man's noble struggle and the fact that the X-men were victims of discrimination and witch-hunts had given their stories a certain appeal to her. "So, mind telling me why you're here? You don't have to, but . . ."

Susan sighed. "Well, fair's fair, I suppose. Tracey asked me to come here tonight to meet with her to discuss . . . something."

Tracey growled. "Something personal; none of _your_ business, Potter."

"Tracey!" Susan exclaimed. "There's no need for you to be so—"

"It's all right," Harry interrupted. "I told you; you don't have to tell me why you're here. I don't think either of you are behind this, so—"

_"Meow," _a tiny, inhuman voice called out in the halls.

All three students became statues. No, they weren't statues; they froze like ancient fish trapped in ice. They barely breathed, made no sound, until they heard a sour, old voice call out, "That's right, Mrs. Norris, lead me to them. I know there's some trouble-making brats out and about tonight."

Then, all three of the out and about students turned towards each other and mouthed a single word: _Filch!_

They blinked rapidly, turning to one another, still not speaking. What could they say? What could they _do? _If they crept out, Filch would see them for sure. They could probably outrun him, but the old caretaker would interview the portraits and the ghosts in the morning. One of the odd facets of Hogwarts was that neither of these groups would reveal curfew-breakers to the faculty . . . unless asked to. Then, there was no escape . . .

Unless they didn't see you, Harry realized. Quickly, he bent down and scooped up the Cloak. _Stay here, _he mouthed to the girls. Then, he wrapped the Cloak around himself and ran out of the room, stomping very loudly.

"There's one! After him!" Filch's voice cried. Mrs. Norris hissed as the pair gave chase.

As Filch's voice grew fainter and fainter, both girls were left to ponder one elusive, troubling question, _Why did he do that?_

* * *

><p>Harry ran down the hall. He was no longer stomping; he was sure that Tracey and Susan had gotten away by now. Now, he was trying to save himself.<p>

That was easier said than done. Filch may have been old, but Harry couldn't shake him or Mrs. Norris, who's nose was probably what was keeping the caretaker on his trail. Sometimes Harry thought he'd lost them, only to hear them again coming from a different direction. Filch's knowledge of the secret passageways as well as the layout of the Castle evened the odds somewhat. In fact, Harry wasn't sure if he even had a chance of escape.

Maybe he didn't. He turned down one corner and heard Filch's voice at the end of the hall, "Got him now! Mrs. Norris, keep him from turning back!" The cat's voice echoed from _behind _the young wizard.

Harry almost tripped over his own feet as he stopped. He was trapped. He had no chance of sneaking past Mrs. Norris, and he couldn't _hurt _the cat; even stunning her made him feel queasy. Spinning around, he dashed down another corridor and took the first door to his right.

Harry groaned. He was in a classroom; now he was _really _trapped! But then he saw something, something very strange indeed. Standing in the middle of the dusty, unused classroom was a large mirror . . .

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes:<strong> To be continued! Sorry, but I am _not _going through the whole "Mirror of Erised" thing right now (Come on! You knew what it was!) For those of you who want to know what's up with Tracey and Susan, well I wanted to explain that in this chapter, but it didn't work out that way. It's too personal for them to tell Harry now, and I didn't feel like shoehorning it in after Harry left the room. Harry will find out about it later; will we find out with him or before, I can't say for sure yet. (Except that it won't be "will _we _find out" so much as "will _you _find out." _I _already know. _Hee, hee, heeeeeee . . .) _

I hope Harry doesn't seem _too _dense for going on this little adventure. Like I said earlier, he may be mentally maturing faster than a Muggle boy (which I shamelessly admit is a plot-device to allow me to write about Harry and company having sex sooner as opposed to later), but he's still young, and young people aren't so much dumb as they are inexperienced.

Besides, Harry has a "saving-people-thing," which I think Lily's choice in comics has only aided rather than caused.


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Notes: Hey, sorry it's been so long and that this one's a little short. Still, I hope there's enough breadth of emotion in here to make up for the lack of words. Quality over quantity, right?**

* * *

><p><strong>Through the Looking Glass and What Harry Saw<strong>

Harry examined the object before him. It was a standing mirror, about seven feet tall. Noticing something written on top, he began to move in front of it. _The Mirror of Erised, _it read. Then, Harry looked down at the glass itself . . .

Harry blinked, then spun around. There was no one behind him. He turned back to the mirror, then turned back around. Still nothing. Finally, he returned his attention to the mirror in front of him.

He saw himself, of course, but he wasn't alone. There was a man standing behind him, tall and handsome with brown eyes and dark hair, very messy dark hair . . . just like his own.

Harry's brain told him what he was seeing was impossible; he knew who the man was, had seen him in pictures, but he was . . . _dead . . . _

"Dad . . .?" Harry asked. Maybe it was only his imagination, but the image in the mirror nodded to him. Harry reached out and touched the glass. He touched his own hand, but his father—or who or whatever the image in the glass was—reached out and placed his hand on Harry's shoulder. In the real world, he could almost feel the slightest pressure . . .

* * *

><p>"Your father?" Hermione asked. The trio were sitting in the library—at one of the back tables.<p>

"Yes," Harry nodded.

"Harry . . . How's that possible?" she asked, stopping herself saying "He's dead."

"I . . . I don't know," the young wizard admitted.

Under the table, Daphne squeezed his hand. "Maybe we should all take a look at this mirror," she suggested.

"Maybe," Harry mused.

Hermione squirmed in her seat. "Are you sure that's a good idea, Harry? You almost got caught once already."

"It'll be fine, Hermione," Daphne insisted. Turning back to Harry, she said, "C'mon, Harry, let's go find out what this mirror is."

Harry sighed. One thing was for sure; as long as he had Daphne, he'd never have trouble making a decision . . .

* * *

><p><em>"Ouch! <em>Harry, you're stepping on my toes!" Hermione complained.

"I'm sorry," he said. The three were huddled under Harry's Cloak, walking down the halls as Harry tried to guide them back to the classroom with the Mirror. Shuffling, actually, the Cloak was large, but three children still took up a lot of space.

They came to a crossroads of sorts: two halls, one going straight forward, the other headed to the right. They stood still for a moment. Then, Harry groaned. "I'm sorry," he said. "But I can't remember which one to take—"

_THUD!_

"What was that?" Hermione asked. The group shifted and shuffled around under the Cloak.

"It sounded like it came behind us," Daphne whispered.

_"Mrrow!"_

"Mrs. Norris!" Harry hissed. "I think in came that way."

"Which way?" Hermione asked.

"Straight ahead," Harry amended. Behind them, another _THUD! _sounded.

_"The other way!" _Daphne hissed. Shuffling and scuttling along like some kind of giant, invisible crab, the trio made their way down the second corridor.

"In here!" Harry whispered, stopping in front of a door so fast that the two girls collided into him. This in turn caused them all to fall over. It took the trio another five minutes to sort themselves out but, thankfully, no new sounds resounded down the Halls.

"I think we lost it . . . or them," Hermione said, getting up. She offered her hand to Daphne, who thanked her as she accepted it.

"Why did you stop, Harry?" the blond asked.

Retrieving the Cloak, the young wizard answered, "Because we're here."

He opened the door. The three stepped in. It was exactly as he remembered it, right down to the shadows on the floor. The girls walked around the Mirror, examining it from the sides and the back; they avoided the reflective front.

"I thought it'd be decorated more," Daphne mused, peeking diagonally up at the Mirror's title.

"How does it work?" Hermione asked. She was staring intently at the frame, looking for some hidden enchantment in the wood. However, she strayed a little too far in front of the device and saw herself in the glass. "Holy Cricket!" she cried, standing strait up.

"Do you see him?" Harry asked, rushing to her side, looking into the mirror, he only saw the two of them.

"No," she answered. "It . . . It's _me!" _ Ignoring her friends, she went on. "I'm older; I'm receiving the Order of Merlin from Dumbledore! And my parents are there, and you're there, too! Both of you!" Hermione's eyes were shining like tiny mirrors themselves.

"I don't think Dumbledore gives out the Order of Merlin," Daphne said, smiling as she reached up to wipe Hermione's eyes.

"Oh," the Muggleborn girl said, blushing slightly. "What do you see, Daphne?" she asked.

". . . Tell you another time," the Slytherin witch answered, her own face reddening a tiny bit. In the Mirror, she saw the three of them as adults, sitting on golden thrones and trading kisses.

"So, we each saw something different?" Harry asked, trying to look around his friends and into the Mirror again. He couldn't see anything . . .

* * *

><p>"Ah, hello, Harry. I thought I might find you here."<p>

Harry whirled around and sprang to his feet, having been sitting crisscross in front of the Mirror. Or rather, he tried to whirl around and spring to his feet. In practice, he got tangled up in his own legs and wound up on his knees. Pushing his glasses back on his nose, he got up uch more slowly. "Professor Dumbledore?" he asked.

The Headmaster smiled a little, his eyes twinkling behind a pair of half-moon glasses. "Good evening, Harry. I apologize for not introducing myself to you properly before now." If Harry began sweating (his mother and uncle had warned him not to let this happen), the elderly wizard seemed not to notice it. "I see that, like so many before you, you have discovered the wonders of The Mirror of Erised. Have you figured out how it works?"

Harry swallowed, glancing back at the Mirror. He tried to remember what Hermione and Daphne had said about what they had seen in the Mirror when he'd shown it to them a few nights previously. "It . . . I think it shows us what we want," the Slytherin answered.

"Very good, Harry," the Headmaster replied. "Five points for Slytherin. Yes, the Mirror allows those who look into it to see the thing they desire most apparently made manifest . . ."

"What do you see, sir?" Harry asked.

"Me? Oh, I see myself holding a new pair of socks. One can never have enough socks," the elderly wizard replied with a smile. Harry, of course, didn't believe this for an instant, but—he realized—it was a very personal question. "Unfortunately, Harry," Dumbledore continued. "The Mirror only gives the _appearance _of what the viewer wants most. It is still only an illusion." Turning to look Harry in the eye, he continued, "The Mirror will be moved tomorrow night, and I must ask you not to go looking for it again." Leaning forward, he whispered, "It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.

Straitening, he began to walk out of the classroom. Pausing at the door, he added, "Good night, Harry. You may leave when you're ready; I believe you will find Mr. Filch is otherwise occupied tonight and will not be able to catch you breaking curfew."

After he left, Harry turned and looked into the Mirror one last time. In it, he saw tears slide down his face. His father moved, once again placing his hand on Harry's shoulder, but this time, Harry's imagination didn't fool him; nothing touched his shoulder in the real world . . .

* * *

><p><strong>Poor Harry! This chapter ended a lot angstier than I thought it would (Is that even a word?). Hopefully the next one will be a little more upbeat. Also, apologies to the those of you who wanted to know what was going on with Tracey and Susan. I realize the most people who commented on the two were upset, but for those of you who quietly accepted it, I am sorry I didn't get to them this time. Maybe next time.<strong>

** (And . . . I jinxed myself, twice. _Sigh)._**

**In more pleasant news (well, for me, at least), I have started my first poll! At the bottom of my Author's Page, just above the stories, you will find five descriptions akin to the ones I make for my challenges. However, these descriptions are for me, not you! Basically, the poll is to determine what I should write after I'm done with Mr. Sandman (my second _Grimm/Mass Effect _crossover). I won't say that I'll go with what gets the most votes (I control the electoral college) but I am interested in seeing what _you're _interested in, and it might sway my choice. Please head over to my Author's Page and vote for your favorite(s) (you can make up to four choices if you can't chose between two or more). **

**Enjoy, (I hope)!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note: Hey all, sorry it's been a while. Hope this makes up for it. Be warned, this is the first time I've ever written drama like this, so I'm a little out of my depth here. Feed back would be most appreciated.**

* * *

><p><strong>The Definition of Betrayal<strong>

Time passed. The snow melted, the days lengthened, and the year drew to a close. January had already slipped into February and March and April. Now, it was May, and the Exams were fast approaching. Harry and his friends were spending more and more time in the Library, a feat which became easier once Slytherin was pushed out of running for the Quiditch Cup (Thanks to Harry, Slytherin had won all of its matches, but the Chasers hadn't been able to acquire enough points to earn the House any hope of winning the Cup. There was also no prize for guessing who everyone blamed for that little mishap).

Harry and his fiancé were, at that moment, studying in a back table of the Library, waiting for Hermione. Harry caught himself reread the same sentence twice. Hermione was _never _late.

"Harry! Daphne!"

The pair looked up from their books to see the bushy-haired girl running towards them.

"What is?" Daphne asked.

"Hagrid," the Muggleborn witch answered. "I just . . . realized . . . isn't it odd that he's wanted a dragon his whole life, and he met someone who _just happened_ to _have_ a dragon egg?"

That brought Harry up short. How many wizards kept dragons' eggs in their pockets? How was the mysterious card-player able to get a hold of one in the first place? And, why would he reveal it to some random stranger who might very well turn him into the Aurors?

Turning to Daphne, he saw she had reached same conclusion. "So, you think there was a reason that wizard gave the egg to Hagrid?" she asked. "What do you think it was?"

"It must have been a decoy to trick Hagrid into revealing information about the Stone!" Hermione cried. "We have to talk to Hagrid immediately."

Daphne nodded. Harry frowned, but began gathering up his things. Something was not right about this scenario, but what could it be?

The trio began racing down the halls. "Slow down, Hermione!" Daphne cried. "What are we supposed to do?"

Hermione stumbled. "We'll . . . talk to Hagrid," she said.

"So, you think he'll just tell us what he talked about with that stranger?" Daphne asked. "I don't know; that memory probably isn't one he's very fond of."

Hermione frowned. "But he has to . . . That's what—I mean. . ."

A tiny lightbulb went off in Harry's brain. It was not a very bright one; in fact, everything its light touched seemed darker and more threatening. "This isn't your idea, is it, Hermione?"

Daphne whipped her head around to face him, eyes wide, gasping a little. Hermione's eyes went even wider. "What . . . Harry . . . no—I mean," she rooted through the library that was her mind, looking for the answer; it had never failed her before.

"Dumbledore suggested this to you, didn't he?" Harry said; it wasn't really a question. "You're not very good at lying, Hermione."

The brunette witch bowed her head. ". . . yes," she whispered.

Daphne's jaw dropped. "What . . . Hermione . . . How could you?"

"I wanted to keep you safe!" Hermione cried out. Harry and Daphne stared at her; she swallowed. "It was . . . after the Troll attack," she stammered. "Professor Dumbledore . . . he brought me to his office . . . he told me that you had saved me . . . but you'd nearly gotten yourself killed doing it . . . and he said you'd probably do something like it again . . . he said you needed someone to . . . to look out for you . . ."

"You mean. . . you thought you could pay back your life-debt by _spying _on Harry?" Daphne accused.

"No!" Hermione cried. "No, I just . . . I . . ." She broke into tears. "I didn't want to _lose _you—_either of you!"_

"'Lose . . . us?'" Daphne asked.

"Dumbledore said you'd take chances, and you _are!" _ Hermione continued, unclear as to whether or not she'd heard Daphne's question. "You two were the first friends I ever made! And, and you nearly _died_ for me! That Troll could have killed you!" She took a deep breath to steady herself. "Dumbledore warned me, Harry, that you'd dangerous things, and he was _right. _The Forbidden Forest . . . guarding the stone . . . exploring the Halls . . ." Hermione struggled for what to say next, unfortunately, Daphne found her voice then.

_"Lies," _the Slytherin hissed like the snake she was. Her eyes were fixed in a terrible scowl, made all the more horrifying by the tears leaking out. "All lies! Everything you say—"

"Stop, Daphne!" Harry clamped his hand down on his fiancé's shoulder and squeezed. The blond witch turned to face him; Harry wasn't scowling. He was frowning, yes, but not consumed with rage as she was. He sighed. "Like I said . . . _Hermione_ . . . isn't very good at lying." The brunette witch's heart clenched when Harry hesitated at her name. "Let's just calm down and think for a moment, all right?"

Daphne didn't say anything, but she nodded. Harry accepted it and turned back to Hermione. "Hermione, did Dumbledore say anything else to you?" he asked.

"No," she replied, wiping away her tears. "He just said that you needed to question Hagrid about the stranger who gave him Norbert's egg . . . immediately."

"Well, maybe I should," Harry said.

"You can't be serious!" Daphne interrupted. "That's exactly what he wants you to do."

"Maybe, but I need to know what's he's hoping to get out of it," Harry insisted. "Anyway, it won't work out completely as planned, because you and Hermione are going to go to Uncle Severus and tell him about all of this."

"I don't need her," Daphne growled.

". . . Fine," Harry replied. "Hermione, you're with me," he addressed the Gryffindor girl. "Come on." With that, he started off to Hagrid's.

Hermione followed behind him, not saying anything and trying to cry any further. What was the point?

* * *

><p>"They're <em>both <em>gone?" Harry asked.

"That's what McGonigal said," Daphne growled. "Something about the old man 'wanting his expert opinion,' or some other such nonsense. It was just an excuse to get Severus away from us."

"But, why?" Hermione asked, timidly. Daphne ignored her.

Harry, however, was frowning for a different reason. "Hermione and I have more bad news. We spoke with Hagrid; apparently he told his 'friend' how to get past Fluffy."

Daphne's eyes widened. _"No."_

"Unfortunately, he did," Harry responded. "Which means that Voldemort or whoever it was knows how to get past the first obstacle protecting the Stone."

"What do we do?" Daphne asked, looking—surprisingly—paler than normal.

"Why hasn't Voldemort taken the Stone already?" Hermione wondered. "I mean," she insisted when Daphne pointedly ignored her and Harry failed to comprehend the gravity of the situation." It's been _months _since Hagrid got Norbert's egg; why hasn't Voldmort tried to take the Stone before now?" That reduced everyone to silence for a few moments.

"Because Dumbledore was still here," Daphne whispered.

"But now he's gone, and so's Uncle Severus," Harry added.

The three were silent for a moment. Then, Harry looked up and declared. "I'm going after him."

_"What?"_ both girls asked, trying to comprehend the insane thing they had just heard come out of his mouth.

"Dumbledore was the only thing Voldemort ever feared," Harry said. "With him gone, Voldemort will try to steal the Stone. If he gets it, he'll be strong again."

"And, he'll have an endless source of gold to fund his plans," Daphne realized.

"He probably can't make a move until tonight," Harry said. "So, that's when we'll go."

"All right," Daphne replied, gathering up her courage. Who said only Gryffindors knew how to be brave?

"I'm coming too," Hermione declared.

"Daphne examined her under skeptical eyes, but Harry spoke softly. "You don't have to Hermione; it will be dangerous," a chuckle escaped his mouth, "and we're probably going to break a lot of rules."

"I don't care," Hermione responded. "I've been a horrible friend, and I'm going to make up for it."

The pair stared into each other's eyes for a moment, before Harry nodded. "All right, let's get ready."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes: Well, I hope that comforts all of you who were annoyed at how Harry's always getting henpecked, as it were. A while ago, someone commented that Harry wasn't exhibiting that much in the way of Slytherin cunning. Again I hope this makes up for it, although cunning isn't the attribute I really want to give Harry . . . <strong>

**What? You think I'm just going to tell you right here? Maybe later . . .**

**Anyway, the polls are closed! _Harry the Duelist_ or _Harry Potter and the Duel Spirits_ is the winner! I hope to eventually write _Shadow World, _or at least post the outline I made of the setting, but I'm going to write this one first. **

**Unfortunately, this means I also have to write a spin-off. Why? because as I was thinking of this world, I started to get some _really _weird ideas that I can't let go. How weird? One of Seto Kaiba's lines (yeah, pretty much the entire 1st Generation _Yu-Gi-Oh _cast is going to be in this) is "You have failed this city!"  
><strong>

**Don't ask me what kind of drugs I was using at the time; call it a fanboy's imagination.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note: Hey, all! Sorry it's been so long. To everyone who favorited this during the unexpected hiatus, thank you. Hopefully, this has enough in it to make up for the long wait and get you salivating for the next chapter. _Sorceror's Stone _is almost done! (After this one, I hope the nest books will go faster).**

* * *

><p><strong>The Definition of Friendship<strong>

"She's not coming," Daphne hissed.

"Give her time," Harry insisted. The pair were huddled under his Cloak in front of the portrait of the (sleeping) Fat Lady.

Daphne growled slightly, but seemed to comply. Seconds ticked by. _Is she coming? _Harry thought. He wanted to believe she was, wanted to believe she could redeem herself. He felt his heart clench in his chest like a cold, steel vise had wrapped around it. He reached for Daphne's hand, but couldn't find it; she had crossed her arms under the Cloak.

More seconds ticked by. Harry thought he heard a _thump, _or some other noise, but he wasn't sure. He wasn't even sure it was important. He could feel Daphne tense beside him, imagined her opening her mouth to reassert her belief that their Gryffindor friend had abandoned them. He wasn't sure he could deny her this time.

And then, the portrait swung open, and Hermione walked out. "Harry? Daphne?" she whispered.

Harry removed the Cloak causing Hermione to jump back just a little as the couple appeared in front of her. Before he could greet her, however, Daphne asked, "What kept you?"

Hermione flushed and looked down. "Neville was waiting for me in the Commonroom. Apparently he noticed something was up and wanted to stop me from costing Gryffindor more points."

"How'd you convince him to let you out?" Harry inquired.

"I didn't," the brunet witch answered. "I hit him with a Full Body Bind Curse."

". . . Oh," Harry replied. "That works."

"Let's go," Daphne said, disappearing under the cloak again. Harry cringed and looked at Hermione again. She was looking down, unwilling to meet his gaze.

"All right," he said, "Come on, Hermione." He held his hand out to her, and—although he wasn't entirely sure how he felt about her at the moment—he felt a little better when she hesitantly took it.

* * *

><p>The trio slowly opened the big, wooden door. It was the door to the third-floor corridor, on the right-hand side. It opened with a loud <em>CREEEEEAAAAAKKKK!<em>

_"Merlin . . ." _Daphne whispered. Laying on the ground in front of them was a giant, _giant _monster of a dog with three heads. All three were snoring, letting out sounds like a jet-engine.

_"That _isn't _in FantasticK Beasts and Where to Find Them," _Hermione noted.

"So we don't know anything about it," Harry said. "Other than it's really big . . . and it likes music. Look." The girls looked to the left where Harry and spotted a harp that was enchanted to play itself. "That's who Voldemort got past Fluffy," the young wizard noted. "He's already making his move."

"Or someone working for him is," Hermione noted. "Now what do we do? Harry? _Harry?"_

The wizard in question was quietly walking towards the trapdoor that Fluffy had been guarding; it was open.

"Harry James Potter, _what are you doing?"_ Daphne hissed.

"Harry, you're not thinking of going in after him, are you? _Are you?" _Hermione asked.

"No," Harry replied, staring down in the blackness. "Of course, not." Turning to the others, he whispered. "We need to get to Professor McGonigal. She can call Uncle Severus and Dumbledore back to the school. They'll know what to . . . do . . ." Harry paused for a moment, distracted by . . . something.

"What is it?" Daphne pressed.

"Do you hear anything?" Harry asked. The girls concentrated, listening for whatever it was that had caught Harry's attention

"It's the harp," Hermione whispered. "It's stopped playing."

"How long," Daphne asked, "do you think we have until 'Fluffy' wakes up . . . ?"

_"Grrrrrrrr"_

The trio turned around and saw the Cerberus was wide awake, and he did not look happy about it. The students then made a very dumb mistake. Although they were unusually mature in some respects, they were still eleven-year-olds, and still had the same reaction that any eleven-year-olds would have to facing such a beast.

_"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"_

They screamed, which Fluffy, like any monster, interpreted as a dinner bell and crouched down, preparing to pounce. Seeing this, Harry turned and shoved Hermione and Daphne down the trapdoor.

_"RAR-RAR-RAR-RAR-RAR-RAR!" _Fluffy roared behind him, angry over its lost meal. A tiny little sliver in the back of his mind told Harry the monster was coming at him now, but he was too frightened to care. Taking a deep breath for courage, he leaped down into the abyss beneath him.

_Squish!_

Harry was surprised when—instead of landing on a hard, stone floor like he was expecting, his fall was broken something soft and damp. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he looked around (miraculously, his glasses were still mostly on) and saw that Hermione and Daphne were all right as well. They were, apparently, lying on some sort of enormous plants.

Harry pushed against the foliage beneath him, trying to stand up to check on his friends, but he felt the plants move, actually _move, _beneath him. A pair of vines shot out and wrapped around his hands pulling him down. The more her jerked and tried to free himself, the tighter the vines felt, and more came out to drag him down even further. Behind him, he heard Daphne scream.

"Stop struggling, both of you!" Hermione barked. "This is Devil's Snare, the more you struggle, the more quickly it'll devour you."

"Well, we wouldn't want to die _fast _would we?" Daphne asked, but she wasn't screaming anymore, so Harry assumed she was doing as she was told. He did likewise, although there wasn't much else he could do; his struggles had already gotten him fairly well imprisoned. Unfortunately, however, it still pulled him down, just more slowly.

"How do we get out of this?" Daphne whispered.

"I'm trying to remember." The Gryffindor replied. "I remember a rhyme . . .

_"Devil's Snare, Devil's Snare . . ."_

Harry's face was barely above the "plant-line" so to speak.

_"It's deadly fun . . ._

_But will sulk in fire and Sun!" _

"That's it!" Hermione cried. "Devil's Snare hates heat and light! Oh, but there's nothing here to—"

"Hermione!" Daphne barked. "We're witches! Grab your wand!"

Harry heard shifting behind him. Then Daphne screamed. "NO! It stole my wand!" Harry wanted to scream too, now. He couldn't see anything but green, but beneath him, he was certain he heard _something _shifting and snapping . . .

_"LUMOS Solis!"_

Hermione's voice rang out like a war cry. Something roared an unbelievable of pain, and Harry felt the vines that had been holding him recoil.

The three soon found themselves on a cold, stone floor, and none of them had ever been so happy for such an experience.

". . . Good work, Hermione . . ." Harry said after a moment. Near death experiences, he had just learned were very exhausting.

"Thanks," she replied, also out of breath.

"My wand's still missing," Daphne groused. "I think the plant took it when it ran off."

"You want to go after it?" Harry asked, gesturing to the direction he'd felt the plant scramble of in.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "But it'll be harder with only two wands."

"What will be harder?" Hermione asked.

"We can't go back," Daphne explained, "but we can't stay here, either. So, we only have one direction left to go."

"Forward," Harry reasoned. "After Voldemort."

"That's incredibly dangerous!" Hermione cried. "He's the worst Dark Lord ever, and we're still First Years!"

"We don't have much of a choice, Hermione," Harry said. Privately, he was hoping the next barricade would be less hazardous, so he could leave the girls there and face the rest on his own. He felt something stirring within him, something that felt like both a lion and serpent, and it wanted to go on. It wanted to thwart Voldemort.

"Of course," Daphne said, "if you'd rather stay behind and wait for the plant to return . . ."

Hermione sighed. "All right. Let's go, then."

The group set off in the opposite direction they had seen the plant flee. This led them to a wide room with a high ceiling. Flying lazily overhead were what looked like metal birds.

"They're not birds, Harry said. "They're keys."

They were. Long and slender, they looked like old-fashioned. Not surprising, considering that they were in a wizards' castle.

"One of them must fit that door," Hermione noted pointing to the door across from them. Floating between them and the door were three broomsticks. "I guess we're supposed to fly up and grab the right one."

"What a waste of time," Daphne scoffed. She walked up to the door and reached into her pocket—only to freeze when she remembered that she no longer had a wand. "Will one of you please unlock this door?"

Hermione walked up beside her and—after a moment of awkwardness—tried _Alohamora _on the door.

It remained locked.

"It must have been charmed to stay locked," the brunet surmised. "I guess you can't cheat your way to the Stone."

"So, which key do we pick?" Daphne asked, looking up.

"It will be old-fashioned, more so than the rest of them, like the door," Hermione guessed.

"The handle on this door is rusty," Daphne noted, "so, it's possible the key is too."

"There!" Harry cried pointing out one key in particular. "The one with the broken wing!" Pulling out his wand, he cried out, _"Accio, Key!"_

Nothing happened. Hermione was right; they would have to perform the challenge as its creator wished them to.

"Let's get it, then," Daphne decreed, walking towards the brooms. Hermione followed after her.

"Wait," Harry interjected. "This is way, _way _too easy. There must be something else."

". . . maybe," Hermione agreed.

"The only way we could possibly find out, is if we try," Daphne said, though she was now eyeing the brooms with a touch more suspicion.

"I'll go first, then," Harry said, grabbing a broom before either of his friends could say otherwise.

Instantly, the keys began flying faster, spinning and swarming. Then they dived down and began pestering Harry, jabbing at torso and limbs, flying in his eyes. The only one not present, was the old, rusty key they needed.

The girls tried to help Harry swat the metal pests away, while grabbing brooms of their own. They partially succeeded; grabbing the brooms caused some of the keys to stop attacking Harry and begin doing so to the pair of witches. The trio took off, trying to find the key and escape from their tormentors.

"Circle around it!" Harry yelled, his Seeker's eyes finding the target before either of his friends did. The key staid just out of his reach as he flew as fast as the old broom could go, which wasn't very fast.

The girls did as instructed, although the three nearly collided with each other a few times. Up, down, twist and turn, they chased the tiny thing, trying to trap it between themselves. Up, down, twist and turn. Finally, they outsmarted it. Harry and Daphne were on a collision course with the key between them. At the last moment, Daphne veered off slightly to the side, grabbing the key as she did so. Harry and Hermione quickly changed their paths and followed after her. The other keys, meanwhile, left them and began swarming above them. Spinning around madly, as though preparing for a final assault.

The blonde jammed the key in the door and forced it to turn. Together, the trio shoved the door open, then slammed it shut, just as several dozen brass rods buried themselves in the door.

_"THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD!"_

* * *

><p>"A chess board?" Hermione asked, studding the strange edifice before them. They had entered the room of the third obstacle. Before them was indeed a giant chessboard, polished rows of black and white squares and a number of giant chess pieces. Interestingly, the black side (which was closest to them) was missing a Knight, a Bishop, and a Rook.<p>

"Maybe we should have brought Weasley," Daphne remarked.

"What do we do?" Harry asked. They obviously couldn't walk across the room; the white pieces totally blocked their way.

"I think we have to play as the missing pieces," Hermione said.

"But do we need to win or just maneuver ourselves across the room? Daphne asked.

"We'll have to try either way," Harry said. Looking at the board, he sighed. "What pieces do you guys want?"

"I'll take the Knight," Daphne said, I've got the most experience." Shooting a glance at Hermione, she said, "You take the Queen-side Castle, Hermione."

Harry's heart almost stopped at the sight of Hermione's downcast face. The Knight and the Bishop were both on the King's side; Daphne had positioned Hermione as far from them—herself in particular—as she could.

He opened his mouth to say something, but both girls were walking off in opposite directions. Sighing again, he took up the Bishop's position next to Daphne. One of the White Pawns moved forward. The game was on.

Daphne scanned the board, looking for the proper move to make. At last, she opened her mouth to give an order, but Hermione spoke first. "Daphne?" The Gryffindor wilted under the Slytherin's gaze, but she pressed on. "You don't think this will be like . . . _real _Wizards' Chess, do you?"

Daphne didn't respond. She and Harry shared a look, then she shouted an order. "Pawn to E3!" One of the Black Pawns moved forward until it was diagonally across from its White counterpart. Immediately, the White one drew its two swords and swung with all its might into the Black one.

_"SMASH!"_

The trio stared at the pile of rubble for a moment in utter, shocked silence. ". . . Yes, Hermione," Daphne replied. "I think this will be _exactly _like real Wizards' Chess."

* * *

><p>The game ran. No one could tell for how long; they were all too busy trying to stay alive. It soon became apparent that the White pieces were not "programmed" to win, but to target whomever was playing as the Black ones. Time and time again, Daphne found herself sacrificing advantageous moves to protect herself and the others. Still, they made progress. They lost most of their pieces, but so did White. Eventually, the Slytherin witch had forced the White pieces to clear a path that would let Harry perform a checkmate on his next move. However, Daphne's unorthodox play style had backfired horribly.<p>

She realized this when the White Queen moved and blocked Harry's chance. The blond swallowed, examining the board. It was still possible to win; if a piece were to check the King from a position within the Queen's range of attack, they would force it to move and let Harry complete the checkmate. Unfortunately, there was only two pieces able to do so: her or Hermione.

Daphne took a breath. _It's all right, _she told herself. _You can do this. You _need _to do this._

The strangest thing was, despite how angry she was at Hermione—and she _was _angry—she didn't want to sacrifice her. Some part of her, buried deep within her heart still wanted the Gryffindor witch to become a part of their family. In spite of her betrayal, Daphne—"

_"HERMIONE!" _

The Slytheirn's eyes flew open, and her jaw dropped. Hermione was walking next to her, on a course to check the King. Her hand shot out like a viper, trapping the Gryffindor.

"Hermione," Daphne breathed. "What . . . ? Why?"

Hermione turned around, and Daphne's heart broke at the sight of her teary eyes. ". . . Because you're my friend, Daphne . . ." Then, she pulled her hand free and completed her move. ". . . check . . ."

The Queen made its counter-move, gliding towards Hermione on its stone base. It made a sound like a growl, like a tiger anticipating a meal. When it was directly in front of her, it swung its scepter like a baseball bat into the girl's side, sending Hermione flying off the board and into the darkness.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Aaaaaaaannnnnnd, Cliffhanger! How many of you think Hermione's unredeemable now?<strong>

**Sorry I had to make Daphne such a jerk, but she was hurting, a lot more than Harry was. Maybe next chapter, she'll be able to make up for it. Maybe.**

**Also, you may have noticed I veered closer to the movie than the book. Well, the movie did a better job of making the challenges look dangerous than the book did, so I went with their version. Also, making Devil's Snare vulnerable to light makes sense from a biology perspective: It thrives in a very dim place away from the Sun, so naturally, bright light would be bad for it.**

**_Lumos Solis _translates as "Light of the Sun."  
><strong>


	16. Chapter 16

I'm not dead yet! Sorry for the wait everyone, but between Easter, the school year winding down, and just how long this chapter turned out to be . . .

Ah, well, First Year almost done! By the way, if anyone wants to make a cool cover image for this, I wouldn't say "no." _(cough _Blatant Begging _cough)._

WARNING: This chapter is tagged for sappy adolescents, scary images, and abuse of ellipses ( . . .)

* * *

><p><strong>Harry Potter and the Man with Two Faces<strong>

"_NO" _Daphne screamed. She tried to run after Hermione, but couldn't. The fastest way to her fallen friend was a diagonal path, and she was a knight; she couldn't lift her legs to take a step. "No, no, no, no, NO!"

"Daphne!" Harry called. She turned to him. His face was pale, but there was a look in his eyes Daphne had never seen before, not full on. It reminded her of the look she sometimes saw from the side when he chased after the Snitch in Quidditch. "It's going to be OK. We've won."

Swallowing, Harry began walking diagonally across the board. He stopped at the edge. To his side, he could see Hermione's crumpled body and hear her moans. For an instant, he considered trying to run off the board to save her. Instead, he pushed his face away—somehow—and faced the King, who was three squares away and trapped. "Checkmate!"

The sword the armored figure held dropped from its hands at Harry's feet.

When the sword fell, the magic holding them in place vanished, and Harry and Daphne rushed to Hermione. The bushy-haired witch was moaning, one hand clutching her side. Daphne kneeled down to try to help her, but the instant she touched her friend's body, Hermione let out a heart-breaking _"O-owwwwww!"_

"She needs help," Harry said, kneeling on Hermione's other side.

"If you go back into the last room, maybe you can steal one of the brooms and use it to fly out," the blond suggested.

"What about you?" Harry asked.

"I'll stay with Hermione," Daphne said, gently lacing her fingers through the other witch's.

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off. "No . . ."

"Hermione?" the pair asked, looking down at their friend. The brunette witch had blood around her lips, but she was talking.

"If you go back . . . If Vol-Voldemort gets the Stone . . . . This will all have been for nothing . . . You have to . . . keep going."

"But what about you?" Daphne asked. "If Harry goes after Voldemort, then either I'll have to stay with you and wait for him, or I'll have to leave you to get help!"

Hermione's lips contorted into something like a smile. "I'm not going . . . anywhere . . . anytime . . . soon . . ."

"All right."

Daphne looked up at Harry. He had that same look as before: pale but . . . driven.

"I'm going after him."

"Harry—" Daphne tried to say.

"Promise me you'll take care of Hermione."

"Harry—"

"Promise, Daphne. Please."

"I will," she said, and although she didn't see it, she held Hermione's hand just a little bit tighter.

"Thank you," he said. "I love you both."

Daphne's brain exploded into a million tiny pieces as it tried to process what it had just heard. It wasn't the kind of "I love you," cousins or siblings exchange. It was the farewell a man gave to the women he planned to spend the rest of his life with, the women for whom he'd gladly to throw the rest of his life away.

"Harry . . ." Hermione's broken voice cutting though her confusion, bringing her back to reality. "I—I'm _sorry . . ." _Daphn_e_ could see it was more than physical pain that had broken Hermione's voice; there were tears in the bushy-haired witch's eyes.

"_Shhhhhhhh,"_ he said, leaning in close to her. "When I get back—when you're feeling better—I'm going to claim you as my hetaera; you'll never be able to betray me again, Hermione, even if you want to." He placed a soft kiss on her cheek. "And my first order will be that you never let yourself be hurt ever again."

"And mine," Daphne said. She didn't care that Harry saw her watery eyes when he looked up at her. "I'm going to be your consort; she'll be my hetaera, too."

Hermione was still crying, but she was also smiling. "Thank you."

The green-eyed wizard smiled, and Daphne thought those eyes looked more beautiful than ever. "I'll be back, I promise." he said. Then he gave Daphne a kiss of her own before getting to his feet and running down the tunnel.

"You'd better come back, Harry," Daphne whispered.

"He will . . ." Hermione croaked. "He's a . . . great wizard . . ."

"Greater than you?" Daphne asked, trying to smile through the tears.

"Much greater . . . All I ever had . . . was books and . . . cleverness . . . He has—_Cough! Cough!" _Daphne leaned forward to examine Hermione. Her lips were still bloody, but it didn't look like she was coughing it up; she probably just bit herself when she crashed into the ground. "Courage . . ." the injured witch continued. "And friendship . . ."

"You have those too, Hermione," Daphne said, crying even more. "You're the perfect Gryffindor." Then, she leaned forward and gave her beloved's concubine-to-be her own kiss.

"Thank you . . . Daphne . . . Do you want to borrow . . . my wand?"

* * *

><p><em>Wow, <em>Harry thought. Standing before him was a Troll larger than the one he, Daphne, and Hermione had fought last semester. _Uglier too, _he decided, although that may have been due to the large bloody wound on its head. The beast was leaning against the wall of the cave; Harry wasn't sure if it was alive or dead. He wasn't checking to find out, either.

_Guess there's an advantage to chasing after someone. _Harry wasn't sure he could have beaten a Troll that size with his friends' help, let alone by himself.

Actually, that thought was perhaps the scariest thought of all. Three First-Years had beaten all three of the previous traps. Traps made by three of the best teachers! What was going on here?

_Worry about that later, _Harry decided, recalling something Uncle Liam had once taught him. When you're chasing someone, focus on what's going on around you, in front of you, behind you, and beside you. Worry about other things later, and right now, what the other teachers were thinking was something to worry about later.

Harry drew his wand and advanced to the next room. The Troll made no sound, even when Harry walked right by it. He decided it was probably dead.

As soon as Harry stepped through the door, the threshold was consumed in purple flames, while the doorway before him was engulfed in black ones. Between the two was a table with seven bottles of varying sizes. _This must be Severus' defense, _Harry thought. He noticed a note the table.

_Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,_

_Two of us will help you, which ever you would find,_

_One among us seven will let you move ahead,_

_Another will transport the drinker back instead,_

_Two among our number hold only nettle wine,_

_Three of us are killers, waiting bidden in line._

_Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore,_

_To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:_

_First, however slyly the poison tries to hide_

_You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;_

_Second, different are those who stand at either end,_

_But if you would move onward, neither is your friend;_

_Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,_

_Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;_

_Fourth, the second left and the second on the right_

_Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight._

_Two are wine, three are poison, one lets you go back, one lets you go forward. _Harry looked at the bottles and wished his fiancé and . . . _other _fiancé were with him now. _If it were me, _he thought, _I'd put the way forward in the smallest bottle, or maybe that's too obvious. _Harry picked the tiny flask up. It was half empty.

_Someone's had a taste of you before, _he thought. Looking around, none of the other bottles were missing any liquid at all. _Well, there isn't a dead body on the floor, so it probably isn't poison, unless it's actually acid, _he thought. On the other hand, that didn't prove it was the one that would let him walk through the black flames. There wasn't a burnt corpse in the doorway, although magical flames might be hot enough to cremate it.

Harry read the note again. "Let's see," he said, looking at how the bottles were arranged. "These are poison . . . Those are wine . . . that means. . ."

Only the tallest and the smallest were left. "Well, here goes nothing," the young wizard said, downing the last of the bottle's contents. The liquid felt odd going down his throat, though it was definitely better tasting than most potions.

Harry took a deep breath. His last thoughts before he stepped into the raging black flames were of his family: his mother, sister, uncles, and the two witches he wanted to spend his life with. _Sorry if I'm wrong,_ he thought.

* * *

><p>Harry wasn't burned by the flames. In fact, they felt rather cool. He stepped out of the threshold and into a wide, empty room. Well, it would have been empty except for two things. One was a tall, standing mirror. Harry instantly recognized it as the Mirror or Erised. The other was . . .<p>

"Oh, hello Mr. Potter," the man in the purple turban said.

"Professor Querrill?" Harry asked. The stuttering man looked different than he normally did. He looked confident, harsh, unyielding. And we wasn't stuttering.

"Oh, yes, Mr. Potter, it's p-poor, st-stuttering, P-Professor Querrill," the man said.

"But, why?" Harry asked. From what he had heard, the man's cowardice was the result of trying to fight hags and vampires and other beings he wasn't mentally prepared for, but he'd set out with the best of intentions.

"Oh, I was once like you, Potter," the man declared. "A young man, wandering the world with silly notions of 'good' and 'evil' in my head. Then, I met my master, and he showed me the way the world really worked."

"You mean Voldemort," Harry said, rather than asked.

Querrill smirked. "I wouldn't be so smug if I were you, boy. If it weren't for Snape and that meddling centaur, I'd have killed you already."

"You mean that stunt you pulled with my broom?" Harry asked. "I wondered who was doing that, but I thought it was Voldemort killing the Unicorns, like some kind of Vampyre wannabe." _Anger is good motivation, but it can be a distraction, _Uncle Liam had taught him. _When in doubt, start making fun of your opponent. _"I know you're not a real one; you wear too much garlic in that turban."

"You little scamp!" Quirell growled. Then, he smiled. "But you're just fighting back with the only weapon you have: words. To answer your question, you saw my body that night. It was my lips drinking the Unicorn's blood, acting as a surrogate for my master. Don't worry your little head about the complexities of it; it's quite advanced magic. More advanced than you'll ever learn, I'm afraid."

"You let the Troll in on Halloween night," Harry said. "The one two rooms back was your 'protection,' wasn't it?"

"Very good, Mr. Potter," Querrill answered, still smiling. "Five points to Gryffindor. Yes, I've always had a way with Trolls. Pity Professor Snape was guarding the door or I might have been able to sneak in and take the Stone while it was less-well protected. Though, I might have been the one mauled by the beast instead of him."

"You killed it," Harry accused.

"It had served its purpose," Quarrel replied, unrepentant. "I only needed it to make it look like I was trying to protect the Stone. How kind of dear old Dumbledore to show me the way past all their traps . . . except one." The treacherous teacher turned back to the Mirror. "The Stone is hidden in this Mirror, Dumbledore told us all _that, _but he never explained how. I look into it," he did so, "and I see what I desire; I see myself holding the Stone, but how do I _get _it? Should I destroy it?"

"_Use the boy . . ."_

Harry shivered. The voice which had just spoken was so . . . alien. It was hollow, yet tight and raspy, and seemed to come from everywhere at once.

"Come here, Potter," Quirell ordered. _"Now!" _he demanded when Harry didn't immediately obey.

Harry thought over his options for a moment, then decided to do as he was told. _Wait for the right moment, _Uncle Liam said. He walked over to the teacher.

"Look into the Mirror," Quirell ordered. "Tell me what you see."

_I'll lie to him, _Harry thought. _Whatever the Mirror shows me, I'll tell him the opposite. I can't let him get the Stone. I'll find it and run as fast as I can._

As he looked into the Mirror, however, Harry didn't see anything. His reflection and Querrill's stared back at him in the glass. Then, Mirror-Harry smiled at him and reached into his pocket. Harry's eyes widened as his reflection pulled out a roughly cut stone, dark red in color. The reflection winked at Harry and put the Stone back in its pocket. Except Harry felt it in _his _pocket.

"Well, where is it?" Quirell snapped.

"Uh," Harry said. His reflection stared back at him. It wasn't moving anymore. It was just an image in a mirror. "I'm talking to Dumbledore. I've won the House Cup . . ."

"_He lies . . ."_

Harry looked around. Again, the awful voice seemed to be coming from everywhere.

"Tell the truth, Potter. Now!" Quirell ordered.

"_Let me speak to him . . ."_

"Master, you are not strong enough," Quirell said,

"_I have strength enough . . . for this . . ."_

Quirell said nothing, but took a step back, turned around, and began unwinding his turban. Harry thought about running; this was his best chance to get away, but he couldn't. He was transfixed by what the professor was doing. He had called the voice "Master," which could only mean one thing . . .

Quirell finished removing the purple cloth. He was bald beneath it, but his head was not bare. On the back of the man's shaven dome, was a face.

"_Harry Potter . . ."_

"You—your'e Voldemort . . ." the young wizard said, staring at the awful abomination before him.

"_Yes . . ." _Voldemort croaked. _"You see what I've become . . .? See what I must do to survive . . .?" _It occurred to Harry that Voldemort's voice sounded almost sickly. The dark wizard certainly looked unhealthy, beyond the whole living-on-the-back-of-a-guy's-head thing. Voldemort had no real nose, only slits for nostrils. His eyes were red, a darker shade than the Philosopher's Stone, and the skin on Voldemort's half of the head looked pale and tight as like on a starving man.

"You did survive," Harry said, swallowing.

"_I did . . ." _Voldemort answered with a smile_. "But I lack the strength to live on my own . . . I've become a parasite . . . living off the life of others . . . Unicorn blood can sustain me . . . But it cannot give me a body of my own . . . Only one thing can do that . . . and it's in your pocket!"_

"_Stupify!" _Harry yelled. Quirell spun around and blocked the spell with ease. Harry didn't care. He fired again and again, circling around the man—men?—as he did so. _"Stupify! Expelliarmus! Petrificus Totalus! Stupify! Epelliarmus!" _ The spells themselves weren't very strong, but they came as fast as Harry could cast them. He knew he couldn't overpower Quirell, but if the Death Eater was constantly defending, he couldn't attack, and Harry could run away. _"If I can make it back to Snape's challenge, _he thought, _I can drink the potion that will take me back through the purple flames. I'll take it with me, that'll slow him down. But what about Hermione and Daphne? What if they're still in McGonagall's challenge? What if the black flames are still burning? _Unfortunately, Harry wouldn't find out.

"_Stop him . . .!" _Voldemort ordered. Quirell snapped his fingers. A ring of flame surrounded them. Cutting off the path of escape.

_Oh no! _Harry thought. Things quickly got worse, however. Quirell silently cast another spell, a disarming one. "NO!" Harry cried out loud this time as his wand flew from his hands.

"_Just give up, boy . . ." _Voldemort said. Harry turned around. Quirell was facing him, but Harry could see Voldemort's reflection in the Mirror. _"There's no need for you to die . . . Just give me the Stone . . ."_

"Never!" Harry yelled. He looked around the room. There had to be a way out. There had to!

Voldemort laughed. _"Bravery . . . Your father had it too . . . Tell me, Harry . . . Do you want to see him again . . ."_

Harry looked into the Mirror and saw the reflection of his heart's deepest desire: the face of James Potter, his father, stared back at him. He pulled the Stone out of his pocket . . .

"_Yes . . . Harry . . ." Voldemort hissed. "You see . . .? There is no 'good' or 'evil' there is only power . . . and those too weak to seek it . . ."_

"No," Harry said. It was barely more than a whisper. He put the Stone back in his pocket and dove for his wand.

"_Kill him . . .!" _Voldemort ordered his host.

Quirell flew at Harry, literally _flew. _The older man crashed into Harry. Harry struggled for a moment, but Quirell's hands locked around his throat, and tightened. Harry tried to pry the hands off . . .

Harry wasn't sure what happened first. Was it his fingers, fingers scrambling to find purchase on Quirell's arms, that touched the man's hands first or did his collar slip enough for Quirell's hand to touch his skin? Harry would never know, nor care.

"_AAAAAAAHHHHHH!"_

Quirell's arms left Harry's throat. The young wizard gasped deeply. He heard Quirrell screaming "What is this magic?" Harry saw that his hand was badly burned.

"_Fool . . .! Get the Stone . . .!" _Voldemort ordered.

But Harry was faster than Quirrell. Almost on instinct, he ran forward and covered Quirrell's face with his hands. The teacher screamed in pain, but Harry held on, until a black _something _that wasn't shadow and wasn't smoke evacuated itself from Quirrell's body. It passed through Harry, and the young wizard's insides felt like they were on fire. Harry screamed;then, everything went black.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes: Wow. I actually wanted to end this before Harry confronted "Quirrellmort," but that was too short. (Heh, heh). If you're wondering why Harry didn't entirely solve the riddle: two reasons. <strong>

**1) I didn't want him to seem too smart, Harry's smart but he isn't as sharp as his ladies.**

**2) I couldn't figure it out any further than Harry did. Really.**

**Sorry if the ellipses bothered anyone. I really wanted to make Voldemort sound like he does in the movie (Man, Ian Hart sounds creepy!)**

**Ok, next chapter should wind up First year and then comes Summer, featuring the long-awaited Harry/Hermione/Daphne threesome!**


	17. Chapter 17

**I LIVE!**

**Hey all! Dark Dhampir still alive here. As always, thanks everyone who favorited this story or added it to their alert list in spite of the long wait. It's people like you who keep me pushing on. **

**All right, quick disclaimer out of the way: This story is written according to the guidelines of the administrators. That means no explicit sex! Sorry. Sorry. I don't like it either. Personally, I think that if readers don't want to read lemons they should either skip them or not read the story, but the Admins are the ones who maintain this site, so they get to make the rules and have the power to enforce them. If you want an explicit version of this chapter, I will be posting it soon on Ficwad dot net. **

**Thank you all again for your patience. **

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 17: Becoming a Family<strong>

"Harry! Harry! _Harry!"_

_"Grah-ahhahah!" _ Harry yawned as he woke up. Looking around, he could see that he wasn't in the place where he had passed out. His glasses were missing, but he could tell it was a lot brighter than the dungeon had been. He was also lying in a bed. Looking around, he found his glasses on a nearby table. He put them on and saw—

"Daphne! _Hermione!"_

The two girls smiled. "Glad you finally woke up," Daphne said.

"We were getting worried about you," Hermione added. The two were sitting in beds of their own. Through the windows, early morning sunlight streamed into the room. But was it the morning after the trio had gone down the trapdoor, or the next day? Or the next?

"What about you?" Harry asked. He climbed out of bed and—on wobbly legs—walked over to the bushy-haired girl's bedside. "Are you all right, Hermione?"

"Madame Pomphrie fixed me up last night," Hermione said. "I'm still a little sore, but she said I can leave by this afternoon."

"She said Hermione shouldn't leave _before _this afternoon," Daphne corrected. "She seemed to think Hermione was going to leave the first time she turned around."

"I wouldn't do that!" Hermione protested. "Not before I knew Harry was all right, at least."

"I'm fine, Hermione," Harry said with a gentle smile, making the brunette witch flush. Turning to Daphne, he asked, "And how are you, Daph?"

"Better than you," she said. "Your hands don't look 'fine.'"

"Oh." Harry looked down and saw that she was right. His hands were wrapped in bandages. Apparently, he'd been burnt during the confrontation with Volde-Querrill. "How long was I out?"

"You slept through all of yesterday-" Daphne began.

"Which was the day after we went after the Stone," Hermione explained._  
><em>

"-so, not too long, all told," Daphne concluded.

"What happened, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"It was Querrill," he said. Harry gave Hermione and Daphne a quick summary of what he'd encountered after he'd . . . after the chessboard.

"We need to tell your Mum about this," Hermione said.

Harry cringed. "Do we have to?" Hermione gave him a look. "All right, I guess we do, but maybe we should all be together when we do it."

"Are you afraid, Harry?" Daphne asked.

"Aren't you?" Hermione countered.

The blond shrugged. "I've seen Lady Potter get cross with me plenty of times," she replied, "along with my own parents. I'm not particularly worried about it happening again."

Hermione shifted at that statement. At length, she asked, "Now what?"

"'Now what,' what, Hermione?" Harry asked.

"She means, 'what do we tell Professor Dumbledore and the others when they arrive and start asking questions,' and 'what do we do now that we know Voldemort's still alive and has made an attack on you?" Daphne explained.

"No," Hermione said. "I mean—Yes, of course we need to discuss that, but there's something else, as well." She blushed deeply, looking down at her lap.

Harry flushed as well. "You mean, about the whole hetaera thing?"

The brunette nodded.

Harry sighed. "Well, I meant what I said, Hermione. I don't want you taking anymore unnecessary risks, and if I have to bind you to do that, I will."

"More importantly," Daphne said, "if Harry binds you, it will protect you from Dumbledore's manipulations. A hetaera can't betray her master's order or his secrets, not even if compelled by magic. If the headmaster tries to extract the secrets from your mind, he won't be able to, and if he tries to use a Compulsion Charm to make you do something that violates Harry's orders, the Charm will fail."

"Really?" Hermione asked. "I won't be able to betray Harry anymore?"

"Not knowingly," Daphne replied.

"Then, please, Harry, _bind me!" _the Muggleborn witch demanded.

_"Er,_ Hermione," Harry said. "I don't know how."

"It's a ritual," Daphne explained. "A highly _sexual _ritual, as Hermione could probably tell you."

Hermione blushed again. In her excitement, she'd forgotten that little tidbit.

"I would suggest we wait until summer break before finalizing the bond," Daphne continued.

"Agreed," Harry said, blushing.

"However," the blond went on, "There's also a spoken part to the ritual. You can say it right now, if you want, Harry."

"What will that do?" Harry asked.

"It should provide Hermione with a weaker version of the protection offered by the complete ritual."

"So, she'll be safe?" Harry asked.

"Not totally," Daphne admitted, "but she'll be safer than she'd be without it. It won't be impossible to read or manipulate her mind, but it will be more difficult-probably too difficult for anything subtle." What she didn't tell Harry—or Hermione—was that a side effect of this part of the ritual would be making Hermione more susceptible to Harry's commands. Not to the point the full ritual would, where her body would be forced to carry out any orders she didn't voluntarily obey, but any command Harry gave her that she didn't fulfill would leave her with a nagging feeling that wouldn't go away until she gave in . . . Or, until the point became moot, which was more likely to happen, given Hermione.

"What do you want to do, Hermione?" Harry asked.

"You're asking me?" the brunette asked.

"Of course," Harry said. "I know I promised I would make you my hetaera, but . . . I don't feel right about doing this without your say so."

Daphne frowned slightly, but Hermione thought a moment. Was this what she wanted? If it would protect her, if she could no longer betray her friends, even by accident, then there was only one answer.

"Yes," she said. "Do it, Harry."

Daphne leaned over and whispered the words into Harry's ear. "Hermione Jane Granger," he said,

"I claim you as my hetaera by the life debt you owe me.

I claim your body, your mind, and your magic.

From now until the end of our life,

You belong to my House and family,

For our pleasure and our support.

Do you understand?"

"Yes," Hermione answered, and, in that moment, the pair felt something in them—like a summer breeze or a wave—run over them.

* * *

><p>"Good morning, Miss Granger."<p>

Hermione looked up from her book. Parvati and Lavender had come by earlier, and Parvati had been kind enough to bring some of Hermione's school books to her, not knowing what else she might want to read. It was a simple gift, but a touching one. Especially given that Hermione was confined to the cot until her ribs finished healing, a process that was too painful to allow her to rest even if she had wanted to.

"Good morning, Professor Dumbledore," she said, hesitantly. Now that she understood the headmaster's manipulations and deceptions, she was far less in awe of him that she had been. She was also acutely aware of what he'd tricked her into doing before, and what he undoubtedly wanted her to continue doing.

"How are you feeling, today?" the Headmaster asked.

"Better, sir," she answered.

He nodded. "Good, and, your friend, Mr. Potter?"

"He's . . . doing very well, sir," Hermione said.

"Good. Good. May I ask," the old man said, his eyes twinkling, "how you three came to be in those dungeons in the first place?"

"Well, sir . . . you were right!" Hermione said.

"About what, may I ask?" the aged Headmaster asked.

"Harry, sir," Hermione said. "He's a good person, sir. He's brave a noble, but he does things without thinking! He just charges into dangerous situations, and I'm really scared for him, sir."

Dumbledore nodded. "I feared as much. Still, if you continue to watch out for him, I'm certain nothing bad will happen."

"Of course, sir. I promise I will," Hermione said, nodding her head.

"Very good, Miss Granger. Now, I think I shall await young Harry's awakening. I have much to discuss with him," Professor Dumbledore said, sinking into a chair across from the young wizard.

Hermione said nothing, merely nodded. She went back to her book, but kept half an eye on the Headmaster. She hadn't exactly lied to the old man. She intended to "watch out" for her master, but that didn't mean she'd be keeping all her focus on him. She suspected her future mistress would approve of her new plan.

* * *

><p>"You lied to Dumbledore?" Daphne asked. The trio was sitting at a table near the back of the Library. The remainder of the school year was passing without issue. Dumbledore had been kind enough to award them each 50-60 points, essentially putting their Houses back in the race for the House Cup and removing any lingering feelings of resentment anyone had been holding toward them for losing so many in the first place. As Daphne and Harry pointed out to Hermione, this was probably another one of Dumbledore's manipulations: Harry had gotten the most points even though Hermione had been the one to sacrifice herself, and Neville had only received ten points despite Dumbledore publicly saying that it took more courage to stand up to one's friends than one's enemies. Why the old man wanted to endear himself to Harry so badly, they didn't know, but it wasn't for anything good. That was obvious.<p>

"Oh, no," Hermione said, smiling. "I was perfectly honest. I just didn't mean what he thought I meant, and I didn't bother to correct him when he was wrong."

"You're a better Slytherin than we are, 'Mione," Harry said. "I can't believe he fell for it."

"I'm sure the bond helped with that," the bushy-haired witch answered. "Besides, I never gave him any reason to doubt me; I was the perfect spy for months, wasn't I?"

"And now, you will be spying on _him _for _us," _Daphne said. The blond was sporting an enourmous grin. Ironically, she now looked a great deal like a lioness who'd just spotted a helpless baby wildebeest.

Hermione grinned back at her. "Yes, I am."

For a few moments, they trio sat in silence. Not an awkward silence. It was the comfortable kind very close individuals can share with one another. Nothing needed to be said that couldn't be said with smiles or gentle touches.

* * *

><p>"Hello, Hermione. It's a pleasure to see you again."<p>

"Thank you, Mrs. Potter. Hello, Harry . . . Daphne." Hermione tried not to blush as she spoke. Harry's mother probably didn't know _why_ she was over—she certainly hadn't told her own parents. "Thank you again for having me over."

"You're welcome, Hermione," Harry replied. He too, was trying to look normal. Maybe his mother would chalk his nerves up to something else. It wasn't like she was expecting him to . . . bind her.

He hoped.

Daphne smiled. "We've been waiting for you all day." Her voice had a breathy quality to it that she hoped made sounded sexy.

"Daphne, are you all right?" Lily Potter asked. "You sound like you have a bug in your throat."

"I'm fine, Lady Potter," Daphne replied, her voice now rather tense.

Lily looked at this and shook her head. She probably didn't want to know. "Why don't you come in, Hermione?"

Hermione walked across the threshold, carrying one of her bags whilst Harry and his mother took the other two. Meanwhile, Daphne took Hermione's free hand and guided her up the stairs towards her room.

Hermione was grateful for the assistance; she probably would have gotten lost on her own. This wasn't the quaint holiday home she and her parents had visited over Christmas. This was Potter Manor, the ancestral home of an ancient and noble family, and it looked the part. The antechamber alone looked as tall as her family's house, and—from what she had seen of the outside—it was probably only a third of the Manor's whole size. Everything was polished dark wood or silver or gold. Various portraits of important persons or ancestors chatted with each other as they passed—and most were glancing at her as they did so. Hermione suddenly became acutely aware that her outfit was both Muggle and not particularly formal. Granted, the others were dressed casually as well, but this was their home; they could do as they liked. She was the guest here, and the brunette witch wondered what sort of impression she was making.

"Here's your room, Hermione," Lily said, stopping in front of the second door to the right of the stairs. As she opened the door, Hermione was pleased to see that it looked relatively normal. It was still four times the size of her own room at home, and she certainly didn't have a four-poster bed or a pair of floor-to-ceiling windows, but the furniture and fabric didn't look nearly as expensive as the downstairs.

"It's lovely," she said.

"We hoped you'd like it," Lily said. "Do you need help putting your things away?"

"No, thank you," the young witch replied.

Daphne tugged at her sleeve. "Come on, Hermione. Harry's room is right next to your's. Wait until you see what we have planned for you!"

"Now, now, Daphne," Lily Potter admonished. "Hermione is staying with us for a whole week. There's no need to be so hasty."

"Mum's right," Harry said. "There's no need to _rush her." _Lily caught the tone in Harry's words but she didn't understand them. Harry and Daphne never fought.

Fighting desperately to keep the blood from her face, Hermione spoke up. "It's all right. I can't wait to . . . see." And didn't that one word nearly cause her to pass out? She'd be seeing a lot very soon: a lot of Daphne and Harry's naked flesh.

And they would see hers!

_Please don't let her see me! Please don't let her see me! Please don't let her see me! _Hermione chanted over and over in her head. If Mrs. Potter saw her now, she didn't know how she would explain her tomato-red face.

Thankfully, Daphne—sweet, blessed Daphne—saw her expression and took pity on her. Gently tugging her friends' hands, she led them out of the room. "Come on, you two. Let's have some fun . . ."

* * *

><p>Harry's room—which was functionally his and Daphne's room—was similar to Hermione's, albeit with more personal effects, giving it a more "lived in" look. The shelves held a surprising number of books and nick-knacks, and a partly open closet revealed Harry's school robes. Curiously, though, there no portraits, but Hermione was grateful for that, given what they planned to do.<p>

The bushy-haired witch sat down on the bed, looking down at the floor. She felt the bed shift beside her. Peeking out under her bushy mane, she saw that Harry was now sitting next to her. He was looking down, so his eyes were covered by his own hair, but his fcheek looked just as red as hers. For some reason, that comforted her.

"You won't accomplish anything if you don't look at each other," Daphne noted. Sighing, she walked over to Harry and kissed him. Hermione squirmed a little at the sight. It was one thing to know Harry and Daphne were engaged; it was another to see them actually kiss each other. Not _snog _each other, mind you. It was much more . . . tender than that. It was beautiful.

Daphne pulled back after a minute or so. "Wow," Harry said.

"Yeah," Daphne breathed. ". . . Now," she said, extending her hand to Hermione. "Your turn."

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked. She was blushing head to toe now.

Harry was panting from his recent lip-lock with Daphne and from the promise it held. His blood was rushing in two directions at the moment: to his face and his groin. Part of him very badly wanted to faint, but, somehow, his brain remained functional enough to see that Hermione was uncomfortable with the situation. "Hermione," he said, "you . . . don't have to . . ."

Whatever else, he was going to say was cut off as Daphne reached behind his head and pushed him forward.-right into Hermione.

_"Eep!"_ Hermione squeaked, as she fell over. Partly it was surprise; mostly, it was the way Harry's arms wrapped themselves around her. Instinctively, it seemed, Harry was trying to protect her. "Daphne," she asked, "what are you?"

"I was hoping you would kiss each other, not fall over," the Slytherin admitted.

Hermione's blush increased. She and Harry were now in a very intimate position. He was on top of her, and she was lying in his arms, trying _very _hard not to look up at his face.

"Hermione," he said. Hermione considered looking up for a moment, but couldn't bring herself to. "It's all right. You don't have to . . . if you don't want to . . . we can . . ."

Hermione cut him off by leaning up and planting her lips on his.

It was _perfect. _Harry's lips were warm and soft, and he put just enough force behind them to let her know he wanted it too. Once he recovered from his shock. Eventually, her head fell back, and the kiss ended. She lay back, panting. Now, she dared to look up at him. Harry still looked red in the face and still a little scared, but he also looked happy and eager.

"I do, Harry," she said. "I do want to." And she did. She was still scared, too, and embarrassed, but she was also desperately in love with both of them.

_Nobody isn't scared the first time they change forever, _her mother had said once. They had been looking at a photo from the Granger's wedding. She had said so again when Hermione had first boarded the train for Hogwarts. The young witch had thought she understood what her mother had said at the time. She hadn't. Now she did.

"That's all well and good," Daphne said, breaking the moment, "but there are other things we need to be doing." So saying, she reached up and began unbuttoning her top.

* * *

><p>Lily Potter sealed up the letter she had written. "Tipsy," she called.<p>

_Pop!_

"You called, ma'am," the Elf asked.

"Do you feel up for a journey around the world, Tispy?" she asked. "I have a letter for Liam, and I can't trust it to an owl. I can't wait that long, either."

"Perfectly ready, ma'am," the Elf replied. Elves had a great deal of power; even so, a journey from Britain to the North American West coast and back was nothing to be taken lightly. "If I may say so, ma'am, now might not be a good time to travel. Los Angeles is eight hours ahead of us. As it is past nine here . . ."

"It'll be five in the morning there," Lily completed. Being a Vampire, Liam preferred the night life, which worked well for a private investigator, but there were some tasks which needed to be performed during the day (such as meeting with clients). Although Liam had learned to avoid situations where he risked exposure to sunlight, he could not force all the day-light duties onto his friends. And even a Vampire needed to sleep on occasion, so Liam usually rested in the early morning. He would be asleep at the moment.

Lily sighed. "Would you mind staying up a little longer, Tipsy, "she asked, "and delivering this to Liam when he's awake?"

"Not at all, ma'am," the Elf said with total sincerity. "Remember, we Elves need very little rest. I will be quite all right."

"Thank you, Tipsy," Lily said, getting up and stretching. "I'm going to be now. Leave whenever you think is best; enjoy yourself in the meantime."

"Good night, Lady Potter," Tipsy said softly, already working to tidy up Lily's desk. The red-headed witch smiled; she suspected all Elves—at least, all House Elves—were a little obsessive compulsive.

Walking up the stairs to the master bedroom, left unchanged since her and James' wedding night so many years ago, she passed Harry's room. As usual, she couldn't resist sneaking a peak on her children to make certain they were all right, and Harry and Daisy looked so very adorable with their arms around Daphne and Astoria. She should probably also check on Hermione, too.

Lily came to Harry's room first. She cracked open the door and peaked inside. "Oh, _Merlin . . ." _ It would appear she had forgotten the impatience of youth.

Or, she'd underestimated Daphne Greengrass.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note: Uh, oh. Harry, you got some 'splaining to do . . . In the next chapter<strong>

**In all seriousness, I hope that was a good one. I've noticed that some of you have pointed out that Harry has the habit of jumping when Daphne says "Jump" and have gotten annoyed over it. I've probably said this before, but that's kind of become a story point. Harry is pretty easy-going, and part of his growth as a character will be learning when to tell his loved ones they're wrong and when he needs to step up and give the people who follow him-boys AND girls-orders.**

**About that discussion between Tipsy and Lily: Angel's sleep schedule was never discussed much in his series, or in _Buffy. _In _Somnambulist, _it was suggested Angel slept early in morning, waking in up in time to work normal business hours (Angel always slept in the building he worked in, so he didn't have to worry about beating the traffic). J.K. Rowling never mentioned Elfin biology (so far as I know) but it seems likely that Elves have superhuman stamina, given that Dobby never seems tired when he arrives to pester Harry in the books, and I for one, was led to believe that Elves in Hogwarts work all hours of the night. Yes, it's possible Harry just keeps running into the night shift, but that seems a little too convenient.**

**On another note, does anyone still use the word "nick knacks?"**


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